


Tangled Webs

by dracusfyre



Series: Blood and Iron [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asexual Character, Author does what she wants, Gen, Loki holds a grudge like whoa, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony trying to Dad, and boy did I make mashed potatoes out of the Defender's timeline, established Loki/Tony, gratuitous Marvel cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-03-03 05:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13334124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: Months after Hydra's plans for a New World Order went down in a literal blaze of glory, Tony comes to Peter with a plan to keep any more superheroes from falling through the cracks.  Meanwhile, Loki has his own way of dealing with the aftermath of Hydra's schemes and isn't too concerned when the bodies start piling up.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> NB (1/29/2018): This is a direct continuation from Collateral Damage, so it probably won't make much sense unless you've read that one. Especially here at the beginning, before more chapters are posted. Also it was originally posted as "Pocket Aces" but I decided I didn't like that title, so.

_One year ago_

            The ringing of a cellphone jerked the man from his sleep; after flailing for a few moments, he got a hand on his phone and squinted at the screen. “Hey, what’s up? It’s like five in the-”

            “Cassandra’s in the hospital,” the voice on the other end said, shaky and thick with tears.  “She said her stomach hurt and then she started throwing up-“

            “I’m on my way,” he said immediately.  “Which hospital?”

            He took down the address and started pulling on the clothes he’d tossed on the floor last night, grabbing only his phone and his wallet before he raced out the door.  On the way he knew he was pushing the speed limit, but he’d never heard his ex-wife sound so scared.

            And because this was his luck, he wasn’t even halfway there when he saw lights in his rearview mirror. “God _dammit_ ,” he cursed and pulled over with resignation. He knew he hadn’t been going more than ten over, so maybe they wouldn’t yank his license.

            The officer that came to his window was curt and uninterested in talking, and Scott got a bad feeling when he spent long minutes in his patrol car with his ID and then came back to his car window with one hand on his pistol, his partner coming up on the other side to flank Scott’s twelve-year old Honda like he was going to try to make a break for it.

            “Step out of the car, Mr. Lang.  You’re coming with us.”

            It didn’t take long for Scott to realize that these people weren’t actually police officers, and where they were taking him was a lot worse than the local lock-up.

 

_Ten months ago_

            The blind man was waiting patiently at a street corner for the sound of the walk signal, half of his thoughts on his opening statement for the hearing tomorrow and the other half  listening to the steady stream of New York pedestrians around him: the lady chatting excitedly to her friend about an upcoming trip, the person – teenager, he estimated – listening to sad music on his phone, on and on, the unending stream of information that he had to constantly filter lest he be overwhelmed by it.

            He heard the footsteps as the pair of men came up behind him, brusque and quick like a pair of businessmen in a rush to get their coffee before their next meeting.  It wasn’t until they flanked him, each grabbing and arm and pressing something that smelled like ozone into his side that he realized they were coming for him.

            “Can I help you gentlemen?” He asked calmly, tilting his head so he could hear them better.  Their heartbeats were slightly elevated and he could smell gun oil and the coffee they’d had this morning, which was interesting but didn’t tell him anything about who they were or what they wanted.

            “You need to come with us, or your business associates are going to have a very bad day,” a low voice muttered in his ear.  Right on cue, a van pulled up to the corner and a door slid open.  Matt hesitated for a moment, resisting the pull of the hands on him, and heard the high pitched whine of something electric activating. In the end, he let them hustle him into the van.

 

_Eight months ago_

“Hey Luke!”

            Luke glanced across the street were someone had raised a hand to get his attention. He smiled a little and lifted his chin in acknowledgement but kept walking.  It had been a long day trying to keep Pop’s shop open, and he was more than ready to get some sleep so he could do it again tomorrow.  His steps slowed as he saw a flash of something out of the corner of his eye, and then something hit the back of his neck and white hot pain raced down his spine. 

_Six months ago_

            With another glance around to make sure the coast was clear, the teenager ducked into the alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster that was mostly empty but still reeked to his oversensitive senses. He changed quickly into his uniform – he didn’t like calling it a costume, not even in his own head – and hid his backpack where hopefully it wouldn’t be stolen this time.  He paused just before putting on his mask, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.  Listening carefully, he heard a small noise.  _Probably a rat,_ Peter told himself, even as another part of his brain whispered that it sounded more like the sound of someone’s shoe scraping on asphalt…

            He had barely enough time to turn around before there was the buzz of electricity and the world disappeared in a flash of white.


	2. Plotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was working on the next chapter and realized that one of the scenes in it really belonged to THIS chapter, so I am sorry that this is a repeat. There is a bit of new stuff at the bottom, though.

_The men staring at him were huge, tapping on the glass surrounding him and talking to themselves like he couldn’t hear them.  “It’s good that he’s so young, he’ll respond well to the reprogramming,” one of them said, and the other nodded thoughtfully. He tried to hide, but suddenly there was nothing to hide behind, only the glass and the harsh white light and the giant eyes of the men staring at him-_

            Peter woke up with a gasp, wrestling with the blanket and falling off the couch before he could free himself. He leaned back against the couch, heart pounding, head in his hands as he waited for the nightmare to fade.  The creak of Aunt May’s bedroom door alerted him and he scrambled up quickly, hoping it would look like he’d gotten up early instead of that he’d been sleeping on the couch. 

            “Oh, hey Peter. Good morning,” she called out from the kitchen.  The timer on the coffee pot had started brewing the coffee fifteen minutes before May’s alarm went off, so when she came to sit in the armchair across from Peter she was holding a steaming cup in her hands.

            “Morning, Aunt May,” he said, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes.

            “More nightmares?” she said sympathetically.

            The walls of their little apartment were really too thin for him to pretend otherwise, so he just shrugged.  “They’re better when I sleep out here.” 

            “Have you called any of those therapists Mr. Stark gave you?”

            “Not yet.”  And he would, he swore to himself, if it got bad.  But a few bad dreams weren’t a big deal, not enough to justify going to see a therapist. 

            She studied him in concern and he put on his best ‘I’m fine’ face. “Ok, Pete. I won’t push,” she said finally, leaning over and ruffling his hair. “Time to get ready, yeah?”

 

            Peter scrolled through his phone as the metro train rattled and swayed, skimming through the news on his phone. Politics, politics, celebrity scandal, local outrage – Peter stopped and scrolled back up to click on the article.  People were protesting the latest statue to be erected in Central Park, claiming that despite Loki of Asgard’s help in the fight against Hydra, particularly his critical role in bringing down the helicarriers during the Battle of the Potomac, putting a statue of him in Manhattan was the height of insensitivity.

            Peter’s eyebrows drew together as he expanded the picture of the statue in question. _Why does Loki have a statue?_ He texted Mr. Stark without thinking, then winced. _Never mind, I didn’t mean to_ he started to type but was interrupted by an incoming text.

 _Lol long story_ , Mr. Stark wrote. _It’s v ugly tho.  Loki’s pissed._

            Peter made a face.  It _was_ really ugly. He spent the rest of the ride trying to figure out something nice to say about it but he got to his stop before he could think of anything so he just sighed and turned his ringer off. 

 

           “Peter? Mr. Parker, are you with us?”

           “What?” Hearing his name pulled him out of his thoughts; he hadn’t even realized that he’d been zoning out and staring at his desk.  Straightening, he glanced up and saw Mr. Schmidt raise his eyebrows at him.  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t hear the question.”

           “I asked you to balance this equation,” the teacher gestured at the blackboard with the chalk in his hand.  “Care to contribute?”

           As he walked to the front of the class, Peter studied the equation on the board, numbers and letters racing through his mind. He took the chalk from Mr. Schmidt with an apologetic smile and  started rearranging the variables, filling up the chalkboard until he had to squat down and write really small at the bottom to fit in the solution.  When he put the chalk down the class was silent for a long moment until Mr. Schmidt cleared his throat.

           “Well, yes, thank you, Peter.  We haven’t covered all of that yet, but your work is impeccable, as always.”

           Peter felt his face get hot as he walked back to his desk; on the other side of the room, Flash curled his lip and rolled his eyes, making a jerking off gesture with his hand.  Ned was all grins though has he sat back down. “Nice work,” he whispered as Mr. Schmidt started explaining Peter’s work. “What were you thinking about? You seemed a million miles away.”

           “Uh…” Peter scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat. He’d actually been wondering if there was a way to figure out the max tensile strength of his web formula without having to just experiment with increasingly heavy objects.  “Just school stuff.  I almost forgot the essay last night so I was making sure I wasn’t forgetting anything else.”

           "You mean like the Spanish test tomorrow?"

           Peter made a face and scrawled a reminder on his palm. "Yeah, like that."

 

           Later that day Peter was quickly shoving his books and papers into his backpack when he saw his phone light up with a notification. _Free this afternoon?_ Mr. Stark had texted, and Peter felt his mood lighten.  _Sure,_ he texted back, and then wrote Aunt May to let her know he would be a late coming home from school. 

 _Meet me around the block_ , his phone buzzed.

           Peter made a brief look of confusion at his phone.  The idea of Mr. Stark coming to him instead of the other way around seemed wrong somehow. _Ok,_ he wrote back with a mental shrug.

           “See you tomorrow, Ned!” Peter called out with a wave as he all but bounced down the stairs to the school.

           “Where are you going?”  He and Ned usually walked to the train station together after school.

           “Just gotta run some errands for Aunt May,” he said as he walked backwards, dodging around the other students streaming out onto the sidewalk. “I’ll call you later!” He took the long way around the block to make sure no one was following him, a habit that he’d picked up after- since he’d been back, and when he was sure no one was watching he went looking for Mr. Stark.

           Today Mr. Stark was wearing a suit jacket over a punk rock t-shirt and jeans, converse sneakers on his feet.  He was tapping quickly on his phone, eyebrows drawn together, but when he looked up and saw Peter he grinned widely and pushed his red-tinted sunglasses further up his nose.  “Hey, kid.  How was school?”

           Peter shrugged, not sure how much Mr. Stark really cared. “Same.”

           “Yeah? Good. Same is good.” Mr. Stark slid his phone into his back pocket and started heading south.  “Same is often underappreciated.”

           “I guess.  So what are we doing?” Peter asked, hitching his backpack farther up on his shoulder as he followed.

           “I have a plot.  A plan. A scheme, even. And I need your help.”

           “Yeah?” Peter stood a little straighter at that. “Ok, sure.  Anything.”

           As they reached the corner Mr. Stark turned to face Peter and pushed the walk button. “I was thinking, because of everything that happened earlier this year, with you and you know, everyone else, that we need to have network. A system of communication so that what happened with Hydra doesn’t happen again, you know? A way for superhero types to keep tabs on each other or to have someone to call if things go sideways.”

           “Oh.” Peter thought about that, about how nice it would have been to have someone to call when he’d thought someone was tailing him while he was out as Spider Man.  Or someone who would have known where to start looking after he’d been kidnapped, since Aunt May and the police had gone in circles trying to figure out how he’d disappeared from the apartment when in reality he’d been grabbed ten blocks away when he was changing out of his spider suit.  “That’s a good idea, Mr. Stark.”

           “And I was thinking you should be the point man.”

           “Me?” Peter repeated, surprised. He trotted to catch up as Mr. Stark crossed the street. “Why me?”

           “Lots of reasons. You met most of these people while you were being held captive, so they’ll trust you.  You’ve still got a secret identity.  And you’ve got this sweet new Stark Phone keyed to your unique fingerprint and retina scan that will self-destruct if anyone else tries to use it,” Mr. Stark added, pulled out a phone from inside his suit jacket pocket.  “To keep everyone’s phone number in.”

           “Oh, wow,” Peter breathed as he took the phone. It looked like an average Android phone, maybe a little heavier, but when he put his finger on the little circle on the back and looked at the screen it turned on with a gentle chime and a cheerful female voice said, “Hello, Peter.” “This is awesome.”

           “Yeah, it is.  I don’t think this one is going to go into general production, but I made one for me and Loki and even Thor, before he went off on his mysterious space adventure.”  Peter followed Mr. Stark without looking too much at where he was going, still trying to figure out how to work the new phone.  “Loki spelled it so it will never run out of power, and I configured it to link directly to JARVIS, so you can ask him for anything you need. None of this ‘ok, Google’ or Siri nonsense.”

           “Got it.” Peter put the phone into an interior pocket of his backpack so it wouldn’t get stolen and looked up to see where they were going.  To his surprise, they were just a few blocks away from the theater district. “Where are we going?”

           “Did you know a Jessica Jones when you were being held in the Raft?”

           Peter had to laugh at that. “Yeah, she was hard to miss.”

            “She lives pretty close to your school so I thought we would start with her.” Mr. Stark stopped in front of a rundown apartment building, decorated in NY chic with graffiti and generations of litter.  It’s appearance was not improved by the piles of stuffed full garbage bags waiting for the trucks to come by.

           “This is it?” Peter said dubiously, kicking a crushed can closer to the pile of trash.

           “Yeah, this is supposedly her address.”  Peter gripped his backpack tighter as he followed Mr. Stark inside, trying to ignore the strong smell of urine inside the foyer.  As they stepped into the elevator, Peter calculated that between Mr. Stark’s designer suit jacket, jeans and sunglasses, his outfit probably could have paid the mortgage on the whole building for a month, even at New York prices.  Mr. Stark led them to a door at the far end of the hallway where “Alias Investigations” was printed neatly across an opaque glass door.

           As Mr. Stark knocked, there was the sound of something falling to the floor with an angrily shouted “ _fuck”_ before the door opened just enough to let a surly dark-haired woman glare at Tony, eyes raking him from head to toe.

           “What do you want?” she said flatly.

           Peter smiled tentatively around Mr. Stark’s shoulder. “Hey, Jessica. Remember me? Peter?”

           When her eyes flicked over to meet his she opened the door a bit more and the suspicious look eased a bit. “Hey, kid.”

           “Ms. Jones, I’m Tony Stark,” he said, pulling off his glassing and offering his hand. 

           “I know,” she said, ignoring the hand. “What are you doing here?”

           “Can we come inside?” Tony asked instead.

           She studied Mr. Stark for a long time, jaw tight, and finally with another glance at Peter she opened the door and let them inside, brushing some fast food debris off two chairs sitting in front of a desk.  Peter stared at the destruction of the apartment/office incredulously until he saw her rolling her eyes at him. “Ok. You’re in. What is it? You gonna tell me you need a PI?”

           “Well, first of all, hello and you’re welcome for securing your release from the Raft,” Mr. Stark said as he sat on the edge of the chair.

           “Your thank you card musta gotten lost in the mail.” She leaned back in her squeaky office chair and put her booted feet up on the desk.  “Now _what_ do you _want_?”

           "Alright, we'll just get down to business then." Mr. Stark adjusted his jacket and sat back in the chair. “Mr. Parker? You wanna do the honors?”

           “Oh, um, ok.” Peter wiped his hands on his pants and sat forward.  “So I don’t know about you, Jess- um, Ms. Jones, but when I got picked up by H-Hydra, there wasn’t anyone to call for help, you know?  My family didn’t even know where to start looking because they didn’t know about…everything.”  That must have struck a nerve because Jessica looked away, jaw working.  “We want to change that.  So I was thinking I could, I guess, give you my number…” Peter trailed off when he realized that he didn’t know what the number was to his new phone.  Mr. Stark cleared his throat and Peter looked over to see him trying to hand Peter something.  Taking it, he realized that it was a business card, with a black-on-black embossed A printed on one side and a phone number on the other.  “Give you this card, and hopefully you’ll give me yours. Your number, I mean.  In case of emergencies.”

           Jessica’s look was skeptical but she took the card anyway.  “If I decide that you’re not full of shit, I’ll give you a call, and you’ll have my number then,” she said finally.

           “Ok.” Peter glanced at Mr. Stark for guidance and tried to think of what else he should say. “Um, do you happen to know anyone else we should contact?”

           Jessica tapped the business card against her palm, face impassive. “I’ll call them, and they can decide if they want to talk to you.” She stood up and walked to the door, opening it with an ‘after you’ gesture. “You can go now.”

           “Ok, yeah.” Peter jumped to his feet and followed Mr. Stark into the hallway.  “It was good to-“ but Jessica closed the door before he could finish.

           “Oookay,” Mr. Stark said as they went back to the smelly elevator. “So what’s her deal?”

           Peter shrugged.  “This was actually her being polite.  Not a single curse word.”

           “No, that’s not what I meant.  Though it is interesting that someone with that much of a grudge against humanity went into private investigation instead of, say, customer service.  I meant like, her _thing._ ”

           “Oh. All I know is that she’s super strong.”

           “As strong as you?” Mr. Stark asked curiously.  Jessica’s building was close to a metro stop so Mr. Stark stopped next to the railing, out of the way of pedestrian traffic.

           “I don’t know. They didn’t exactly let us all hang out together.”

           Mr. Stark made an interested noise at that and Peter can tell that his mind was already trying to calculate ways to measure super strength and who knows what else.  But all he said was, “Good job in there.  I’ve already sent you a list of some of the other people that we bounced from the Raft so that you can contact them too.  Let me know if you have any questions or need help, ok?”

           “Yeah, sure.  Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

           Mr. Stark clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Thank you, kid.” The hand on his shoulder stayed as Mr. Stark studied Peter intently over the top of his sunglasses. “So, how are you doing? Really?”

           Peter looked away and shuffled his feet. “Fine. I mean…you know.”

           “Yeah, I _do_ know, that’s why I’m asking. Nightmares?”

           Peter shrugged. “Yeah.”

           “Panic attacks?”

           Peter shook his head. “No, nothing like that.  Just the dreams.” And the claustrophobia. And a bit of insomnia. But nothing that he couldn’t handle, really.

           Mr. Stark was still studying him as if he didn’t really believe him, but eventually he just squeezed Peter’s shoulder and let him go.  “Ok, if you say so.  Keep me posted on this project, I’ll be checking in.”

           “Yeah, sure. Of course.” 

           Tony watched Peter disappear into the crowd of commuters pouring down the stairs to the metro before texting Loki for a ride home. "I'm worried about the kid," Tony announced when he was back at the tower, toeing off his shoes and emptying his pockets onto the kitchen counter.

"Oh?" Loki was in the same place that Tony'd left him, still in a brocade dressing gown he'd brought with him from Asgard and reclining on the couch with his nose buried in a book from Stephen's musty old library.  His journal was on the coffee table, a pen stuck in the middle where Loki was periodically taking notes.  Tony crossed the room to press a kiss to the top of Loki's head and sat down on the coffee table, nudging Loki's journal out of the way.

"Yeah.  I don't think he's dealing with all that Hydra stuff very well."

Loki closed his book and set it on the floor so he could meet Tony's eyes. "Is he trying to pretend it never happened? Perhaps trivializing all of the symptoms of his traumatic experience so that he doesn't have to confront the memories or seek some sort of professional help?"

Tony scowled at Loki, feeling the urge to throw something when Loki just looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. "I don't know what you're trying to imply - "

"You haven't worn a collared shirt or tie since the helicarrier," Loki pointed out.  "Your sleep is more erratic than ever, and-"

"Ok, yes, thank you," Tony said irritably, starting to stand. "You don't need to point out all the ways I'm  _damaged_  -"

"Stop." Loki sat up and tugged Tony back down to sit, running his long fingers through Tony's hair to cradle the back of his head.  With his other hand he tilted Tony's head up for him to brush his lips over the angry line of Tony's mouth, lingering until they softened with a sigh.  "Nothing about you is damaged," Loki said softly. He sat back on the couch, pulling Tony along with him until Tony was straddling his lap.  He pushed Tony's suit jacket off his shoulders and down his to his elbows, trapping Tony's arms behind his back.  As Loki's eyes grew heavy-lidded and dark, Tony felt heat crawl down his spine, making his heart beat faster.  "I will help you keep an eye on this protege of yours, do not worry." 

 "Yeah?" Tony had to make an effort to keep his voice even, because Loki's fingers had slipped under his shirt and were tracing patterns on his skin.  He shifted a little but made no effort to shrug off his suit jacket and free himself. "And what's in it for you? Want me to talk to Fury about your statue?"

"That shan't be necessary," Loki said with a satisfied smile, fingers now dipping into the waist of Tony's pants, making his breath hitch. "I took care of it already."

Tony had to laugh because he recognized the tone in Loki's voice.  A bunch of people were about to get hot and bothered and Tony could hardly wait.  He leaned forward to capture Loki's mouth, knees tightening on Loki's hips to keep his balance. "I'm not even going to ask," Tony murmured against Loki's mouth, nipping along his jaw.  "I'll just have to think of some way to thank you."

"I have some thoughts," Loki said roughly, tilting his head back for Tony to continue down the long line of his throat.

"So do I." Tony got to his feet and nudged Loki's knees apart before kneeling between them.  "I'm at your command, my liege."


	3. Meet and Greets

            To his surprise, Peter got a call from Jessica later on that week, thankfully after Aunt May had gone to bed.  “Hey, kid,” she said as soon as Peter picked up, talking right over his hello. “I have a name for you.  Danny Rand.” Peter scribbled down the number she rattled off as fast as possible because he got the distinct impression she wouldn’t say it again.  

            “Oh, thanks. Ok. Can you tell me anything about him, like, you know, what’s his…thing?" He lowered his voice in case Aunt May was still awake. "His powers?”

“Oh don’t worry,” Jessica said, and he could practically hear the eye roll through the phone.  “He’ll tell you all about it, you’ll barely have to ask.” 

“What-” he started, but she had already hung up the phone.  With a sigh, he tossed the phone on the couch next to him and scrubbed his hands through his hair.  He considered his backpack, debating getting ahead of his homework for once, but in the end he just lay back down on the couch and stared up at the lights of nighttime traffic as they crossed the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.  

 

            The next morning Peter called the number on his way to school and when it went to voicemail, hung up before the recording could start.  He spent the next two stops composing a message and then banged his head on the subway door in frustration when Mr. Rand picked up on the second ring.

            “Hello?”

            “Um, hello. Mr. Rand?”

            “Yes.  Who is this?”

            “My name is Peter Parker.  Um, Ms. Jones – Jessica – gave me your number because we should…talk.” Peter banged his head on the subway doors again and blew out a long breath.

            “Talk?”  Mr. Rand sounded puzzled but at least he wasn’t as hostile as Jessica. She would have hung up already.

            “Yeah.  It’s not really something that should be done on the phone though.  Can we meet somewhere?”

            There was a long silence and then with an almost audible shrug Mr. Rand said, “Sure.” He named a martial arts studio that Peter had never heard of and they set the time for seven.  When they got off the phone Peter made a face and texted Aunt May that he wasn’t going to be home for dinner, then sent Mr. Stark a text about the meeting.

            As he was putting his phone into his backpack a young woman brushed past him, face stormy. “Aw, c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that,” a man wheedled, following her as she tried to squeeze around the other passengers in the train car.  “I was trying to give you a compliment.”

            “Hey, leave her alone,” Peter said, grabbing the man’s shoulder.  “It looks like she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

            The man stopped and shrugged off Peter’s hand angrily. “This is a private conversation, asshole, between me and the lady here. Ain’t that right?” Peter looked at the lady again; if she was older than him, it wasn't by much. The man, however, had to be pushing forty.

            “Get bent, dick cheese,” the girl said, lip curled as she pulled her bag defensively across her chest.

            The man’s face darkened. “Hey now, if a girl dresses like you-”

            “That’s enough,” Peter said loudly.  He fisted a hand in the man’s sweatshirt and marched him towards the doors, effortlessly controlling the man’s effort to free himself. Thankfully the train had just pulled into the station so as the doors opened Peter shoved him out, almost knocking over a few commuters as the man stumbled on the platform.  Heedless of the other commuters, the man started cursing and swung wildly at Peter.  Peter caught his fist and squeezed, making it clear to the man that he was risking quite a few broken bones if he didn’t stop struggling. “I think you can take the next train, don’t you?” he said and pushed the man away, stepping back for the doors to close. 

            Turning, he felt his face get hot when he saw that the girl was watching him with a broad grin. “Thanks,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “That was really nice of you.”

            Peter shrugged and grabbed a pole as the train started moving. “It’s no big deal. I’m glad I could help.”

            “My name’s Ashley.” She moved her backpack to her other shoulder and offered her hand.

            “Peter,” he said as he shook it. He ran a hand over the back of his neck as he wondered what to say next. “So, uh, where are you headed?”

            “School.  I go to Forest Hills.”  

             _Duh,_ Peter thought,  _it's Thursday. Where else would she be going?_ "I go to Midtown," he offered, knowing that his face was red again as she grinned at him.

            “Oooh, the nerd school,” she said teasingly. Peter just shrugged and looked down at his shoes.  From there she thankfully took charge of the conversation until it was Peter’s stop.  When he said as much she said, “Oh, ok. Um, can I have your number, maybe? I'd like to buy you a coffee or something for, you know-”

            “Oh, no. I mean, thank you, but I don’t…” He took a deep breath when the girl’s face fell. “I’m sorry, but I’m, uh, seeing someone?” He improvised, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

            It must have worked because she offered her hand again, this time with a rueful look on her face. “Well, thanks again.”

            Peter ducked his head and mumbled thanks as he made his escape, letting out a long breath as the doors closed.  As he walked up to school when he heard the chime of a return text from Mr. Stark: _Danny Rand? Like the billionaire from Rand Enterprises? That should be interesting. LMK how it goes._

            Peter stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and gaped, stumbling a little when someone ran into him. _Billionaire?_   He googled Daniel Rand and groaned, feeling even more like an idiot than he already did.  “And school hasn’t even started yet,” he muttered, putting the phone on mute and shoving it back into his bag.

 

            That evening Peter made his way downtown to the address Danny Rand had given him, a little surprised to see that the billionaire wanted to meet here, of all places.  The studio wasn’t particularly large or fancy and the neighborhood was solidly average, mostly a mix of various Asian restaurants and the ubiquitous New York bodegas. He hesitated near the entrance, not knowing if he should call Mr. Rand or knock first, before taking a deep breath and rapping his knuckles on the door.  After a few moments a woman came to the door, studying Peter with open curiosity.

            “Can I help you?”

            “I’m here to speak with Mr. Rand?” Peter said, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder. “I spoke with him earlier and he said to meet him here.”

            “Yeah, he’s waiting for you.”  She stood back to let him enter.  “Please take off your shoes.”

            Peter toed off his shoes and lined them up with the others by the door before following her across the padded mat floor towards the back of the room.  The studio must have been between classes, because a few people were stretching along the sides of the room but it was otherwise deserted.  From the way these people nodded their heads respectfully at the woman as she walked by, Peter figured she must be an instructor here.

            She opened a door to reveal a smaller practice space. On the far side of the room a man was sitting cross-legged on the floor, head bowed and hands together.  “Give him a few more minutes, he’s almost done.”

            “Ok.” As she closed the door, Peter glanced around for a chair or something before eventually sitting down across from the other man, pulling his backpack into his lap as he studied Mr. Rand.  For a billionaire, he sure looked a lot like a hobo, Peter thought, wondering if the shabby clothes and shaggy hair and beard were a conscious aesthetic or something else.

            After a few minutes Mr. Rand took a deep breath and let it out slowly, raising his head and opening his eyes to look at Peter.  “Hello.  Thank you for not interrupting my meditation.”

            “Sure, of course. I’m Peter.” He leaned over awkwardly to offer a hand to Mr. Rand, who shook it after a brief pause.

            “Daniel Rand.  So what’s all this about?”

            “Jessica didn’t tell you anything?”

            Mr. Rand smiled briefly.  “Are we talking about the same person?”

            “Oh, yeah. True. So, uh, I don’t know how much you follow the news, but a few months ago, before everything with the helicarriers in DC, Hydra was…” Peter took a deep breath and looked down at his hands; talking about it was still hard.  “Hydra was finding people with, um, unusual abilities and sending them to the Raft. To get them out of the way, you know. And maybe to try to recruit some of us.  They have – had – this way of…” Peter cleared his throat and tried to relax his white knuckled grip on the Starkphone.  After the battle, Mr. Stark had tried to explain what had happened to Mr. Barnes while he was with Hydra, what they had done to him to make him attack his friends.  Sometimes he woke up crying from dreams where he had his hands around Ned’s throat, or Aunt May’s.  Swallowing thickly, he said, “Anyway, that’s where Jes- Ms. Jones and I met.  At the Raft. Hydra was able to pick us off one by one because none of us knew each other existed, much less how to find someone or ask for help.”

            “I know,” Mr. Rand said, mouth twisting with what seemed like his own bad memories. “Jessica wasn’t the only one of my friends that went missing, but I had no idea what…” He let out a long breath and shook his head once. “So that’s what you’re doing?  Making a superhero helpline?”

            “Yeah, I guess you could call it that.”  Peter fumbled in his pocket for the business card with his number on it.  “The idea is that if anyone is in trouble there’s someone to call, for backup or whatever.”

            Mr. Rand studied the card curiously, flipping it over to look at the writing on the other side. “Are you the backup? We call you and you come help?”

            “If I can. Or…I mean, I can tell you someone else to call?” Peter ventured. That made sense, right? The whole idea of this was to put people in contact with others who could help them, so the more numbers that were shared, the better? At that Mr. Rand made a thoughtful noise and set the card down on the carpet beside him.  “So Jessica didn’t tell me much about you,” Peter said, wrapping his arms around his knees.  “What do you…do?”

            “Well, I am the Immortal Iron Fist,” he said, sounding like Peter should know what that was.  When Peter just looked at him blankly, though, he didn’t seem surprised.  “I am one in a long line of immortal warriors that use focused chi to…”

            As Mr. Rand explained, Peter nodded in all of the appropriate places and tried to be subtle as he unlocked his phone and texted _Sorry to disturb you, sir, but could you tell me what ‘chi’ is? Is it another word for magic?_ to Mr. Loki. 

            Right as Mr. Rand was saying something about a dragon, Mr. Loki appeared next to Peter, making him jump.  “Why are you asking about chi?” he asked, looking bizarre and out of place in this shabby studio wearing his black-on-black suit.  

            “Excuse me, who are you?” Mr. Rand stood and flexed his fingers warily as he shifted his feet. "What are you doing here?"

            Peter got to his feet hastily, holding his hands up as he came between them. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rand, this is Mr. Loki. I was just asking him what chi was, I didn’t know he would-”

            “Interesting,” Mr. Loki said over him, studying Mr. Rand intently, and then disappeared.  Mr. Rand scowled and Peter offered him a weak smile, pretty confident that he had just screwed everything up.  But then Mr. Loki reappeared, this time with Dr. Strange in tow.

            “So why are we – oh, I see,” Dr. Strange said, studying Mr. Rand with surprise, stroking his goatee. “What a novel use of chi.”

            "You mean  _magic_ ," Mr. Loki countered, crossing his arms over his chest.  " _Chi_ is _magic_ , why must you insist on using a different word for it?"

            “Magic?” Mr. Rand frowned. “I don’t know that I would call it _magic-_ ”

            Dr. Strange made a triumphant noise and Mr. Loki rolled his eyes, and then they were off.  After a few minutes Mr. Rand relaxed his defensive stand and put his hands on his hips as the two sorcerers peppered him with questions.  Peter stood awkwardly, wondering if he should stay or go as he watched the three men as they talked and occasionally drew symbols made of light in the air while trying to explain something. After a few minutes he felt a touch at his elbow.  The woman from earlier gestured for him to follow her so he grabbed his backpack and left the others to their conversation. 

            “I heard some of what you were talking about,” she said as she walked with him back to the front door while her students cleaned up the room after their class. “If you have another card, I'd like to have one. Danny can be flakey about these kinds of things.”

            “Ok. Sure.” Peter dug out another one of the cards Mr. Stark had given him and handed it to her. “I’m Peter, by the way. I don’t think we were introduced.”

            “Colleen,” she said absently, studying the card with curiosity. “Pleasure to meet you, Peter. Thanks for this,” she said, gesturing with the card. “It’s always nice to know there are others out there who can help with…problems.”

            “Do you guys get a lot of 'problems'?” Peter asked as he stepped into his shoes.

            “You’d be surprised. Lately it’s been ninjas.”

            “Ninjas,” Peter repeated slowly, wondering when he was going to stop being surprised by this stuff.  Jesus, maybe Mr. Rand had been serious about the dragon. 


	4. Flashback

_Four Months Ago_

            As Matt Murdock disappeared, returned to his home in Hell's Kitchen, Loki manifested the list that Stark had given him to find the next inmate that was to be discreetly released from the Raft.

            “Huh.  So you’re the one who’s been bouncing people outta here.  Gotta say, not what I expected,” a voice drawled from the cell across the hall.  Turning, Loki raised an eyebrow and studied the speaker, who was sitting on the floor and leaning against the far wall of his cell. His face was rough and square jawed, and his nose had been broken frequently; his eyes were deep-set and dark and were watching Loki intently. Even in the drab clothes provided by the prison Loki could tell that the man was heavily muscled in a way that came from combat.  But what made Loki look twice was none of that, but rather the glitter of intelligence in those dark eyes and the red pulse of violence in his thoughts.

            “And you are?” Loki asked as he dissolved the atomic bonds holding together the front wall of the lawyer’s cell and came closer.

            “Frank Castle.”

            “And why are you here, Frank Castle? Were you also unjustly imprisoned?”

            Castle barked out a laugh.  “No.  Unlike Red over there, or that nice lady with the mouth like a sailor down the hall, I actually deserve to be here.  I killed a lotta people. A  _lot_  of people. They all had it coming, but...”  Castle shrugged.

            "Interesting." Loki felt a smile, sharp as a knife, tug at the corners of his mouth.  “If I showed you more people who deserved it, like the ones that captured you and put you in here, would you kill them too?”

            Castle cocked his head to the side at that and stood, coming to the front of his cell, eyes narrowing as he studied Loki. “Yeah, ok,” Castle said after a moment of thought.  "You tell me what they did, and I'll put them in the ground." 


	5. Looking for Luke

            Loki woke up with a sharp inhale, holding his breath for a moment before exhaling slowly as he reoriented himself from his nightmare. Glancing over, he saw the comforting blue glow of Stark’s arc reactor shining softly, not cracked and flickering as it had been in his dream. He moved closer and touched the smooth casing, feeling his fingertips tingle with the power buzzing under the surface.  As Stark breathed, Loki traced idle runes on his chest with no will or power behind them, still waiting for the day when he said _I’m ready, do it now._  

_Loki looked at him for another moment over his plate of untouched food and empty glass of wine.  Then he leaned forward and took Stark’s fork, setting it down gently on his plate and pushed it aside.  Stark frowned at the serious look on his face.  “Stark,” Loki said slowly, “if I said I could make you immortal, would you want it?”_

_Stark finished chewing slowly, staring at Loki measuringly. His brown eyes were sharp and stayed on Loki’s for long moments as he wiped his hands and his mouth. “You’re serious.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why?”_

_Loki pressed his lips together tightly. “You must know why, Stark. Don’t be coy.”_

_“Yeah,” he drawled, resting his elbows on the table and biting his lower lip, mouth curling in a smile that never failed to drive Loki crazy. “But maybe I just wanna hear you say it again.”_

            A buzz from the table next to the bed broke him from his thoughts and Loki realized that this was the sound that had woken him up from his dream.  Reaching for his phone, he unlocked it and saw that he had a number of messages from an unlabeled number.  Opening the first one, he saw a photo of two dead men, shirts sliced open to reveal tattoos of a skull-headed octopus on their chests.  The next few texts were similar, a total of five men and three women in total. The only text read _Red Hook, daycare center_.

            _Good work,_ Loki responded.  _And now?_

            _Got leads on a cell in Harlem._

            _Let me know if you require assistance._ Loki set his phone back down on the side table and lay back against the pillows with a quiet sigh.

            “What are you plotting, Loki?” Stark mumbled, rolling over to lay on his stomach and bury his face in the pillow, the room growing darker as the blue light of the reactor was smothered against the sheets.

            “Nothing,” Loki said smoothly, turning to trail his fingers down the divot of Stark’s spine.  Stark moved his head enough to give Loki a skeptical look out of one slitted eye. “Nothing sinister,” he amended.

            “Uh huh.”

            With a smile Loki slid over to drape himself over Stark’s back, pressing a kiss under his ear. “Nothing that has not already been in motion for some time?” he offered, biting gently at the nape of his neck.

            "Since you're not telling me, I'm going to guess that I wouldn't agree with it?" 

            "Hmm.  What was it you said the other day?" Loki brushed his lips across Tony's shoulder while he pretended to think. "I plead the Fifth?"

            Stark made an amused noise deep in his chest as Loki kissed and bit his way down his back. “The court will allow you to pursue this line of inquiry for now, but we’re going to talk about this eventually."

            "As you wish," Loki murmured, then found better things to do with his mouth.

***

            On Friday after school Peter sat down with the list of former Raft inmates and found the last two on the list that lived in New York, a lawyer and an ex-con.  Only the lawyer had a phone number, so he called and left a message with the secretary and then texted Mr. Stark about the last one.

_Yeah, we only have an address for Luke Cage,_ Mr. Stark texted back. _Let me know when you visit him, I’m going with you._   Peter scowled a little at his phone.  Why did Mr. Stark give him this assignment if he was just going babysit him while he did it?

_That's not necessary, I can do it_.  He wrote back. He waited a few minutes for a response and could practically feel Mr. Stark's look of disapproval all the way from Queens, so with a sigh he wrote _T_ _omorrow at 10?_    Aunt May did tai chi and yoga on Saturday mornings so she wouldn’t ask a bunch of questions about where Peter was going.  After a moment Mr. Stark texted back a thumbs up emoji.  He tucked the Starkphone back into his backpack and picked up his other phone where he had a pile of texts from Ned, who had probably just finished eating dinner with his parents.

             _hey sup wyd_

_you got plans for tonight?_

_did you hear liz yesterday she said she was going to an outdoor concert tonight and she was looking at you when she said it._ Peter blew out a long breath at that.  He really needed to have a conversation with Ned about Liz.  

_so we should totally go, right?_ _or you could come over and we could play some gaems._ Peter smiled in relief.  If he told Aunt May that he was spending the night with Ned, he could hang out for a while and then do some late night patrols.  For the last few nights, insomnia had driven him from the apartment, the activity and cool night air doing a lot to clear his head even if it left him dozing off around lunch. 

             _Let's do some gaeming,_ he texted.  _Be right there._

 

            The next morning Mr. Stark was waiting for him outside his apartment building, leaning against a sleek black Aston Martin arguing about something with Happy.

            “Good morning, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Stark said as soon as he saw him.  Happy started heading around the car to open the door but Mr. Stark beat him to it, gesturing for Peter to climb inside.  With a scowl Happy turned on his heel to get behind the wheel.  “I thought we’d catch a ride to Harlem instead of you having to take the train,” Mr. Stark said as he climbed in beside him.

            “Oh, you didn’t have to do that, you’re a lot closer to-” Peter started but Mr. Stark waved his words away.

            “Don’t worry about it kid. I also figured you could give me an update on the project.  How did the meeting with Danny Rand go? Loki was arguing with Stephen for _hours_ that night. I finally made them take it outside because the magic and cutting sarcasm was making my head hurt.”

            “It went well, I guess.”  He’d gotten a text from Colleen with Danny’s number, so there was that, even though Danny had never answered his message thanking him for the meeting. “I still don’t get the Iron Fist thing, though.”

            “Yeah, even after hearing a four hour conversation about it I don’t get it either.  What I got out of it is that he can punch things really hard. And maybe heal people?”  Mr. Stark started patting the pockets of his jacket as if looking for something

            “Oh.”  Peter’s brow furrowed as he remember how the dragon figured into it, but before he got up the courage to ask about it Mr. Stark was handing him a folded piece of paper.  Opening it, Peter realized it was another list of names and phone numbers, most of them with area codes outside of New York.

            “I have a few more leads for you,” Mr. Stark explained.  “They weren’t on the Raft, but they are definitely, hmm, in our line of work, let’s say.”

            “All of them?” There were almost a dozen names on the list.  

            “Yeah.  Loki gave them to me. I’m a little afraid to ask how he got them, but as far as I can tell they check out.”

            Peter spent a few minutes programming the numbers into his phone so he could destroy the piece of paper while Tony typed out an email.  Just as he was finishing Tony put his phone in his jacket pocket and tapped on the privacy window for Happy pull over.

            “The address is a few blocks from here, but I didn’t think we should draw too much attention to ourselves,” Mr. Stark explained, closing the door after Peter got out and rapping on the roof of the car to tell Happy he was good to go. Given the way people had been watching them as they climbed out of the hundred thousand dollar car, Peter suspected that they’d already attracted plenty of attention but he didn’t say anything. 

            “So why did you want to come with me today?” Peter asked as Happy pulled away from the curb.

            “Luke Cage was one of the hardest cases we had when trying to separate the real criminals from the people Hydra scooped up,” Mr. Stark said, scratching his jaw thoughtfully as they crossed the street.  “He already had a record, and the frame job against him was pretty thorough.  In the end it was almost a tie vote, even after Steve vouched for him.  So I’m here just in case.”

            “Did you bring a suit?” Peter asked curiously.

            Mr. Stark raised his eyebrow and gave him a look over the top of his sunglasses.  “First of all, I’m not exactly helpless without a suit, Mr. Parker.”  Peter flushed but before he could stutter out an apology Mr. Stark held up a hand and pulled his sleeve up enough for Peter to see a matte black metal bracelet hugging his wrist.  “Second, yes, I did bring a suit.  Kind of. As long as I’m wearing this, I have a suit on me.”

            “How does it work? Is it a homing beacon?”

            “Magic,” he said smugly.  “Loki made it for me.”  He stopped at a street corner and looked for the road signs.  “Take a left here.” Another block down and Mr. Stark came to a stop with a sigh.

            “This is it?” Peter studied the burned out building in front of them, windows boarded over with graffiti covered plywood.  The words “Luke’s” could still be seen over the door, which made Peter sad for some reason; he wondered if Hydra was responsible for this, too.

            “Yeah, this is the last address on record,” Mr. Stark said, putting his phone in his pocket and rocking back on his heels as he studied the building.

            “So what now?”

            Mr. Stark thought for another minute, tapping his phone against his palm.  “Hey JARVIS, could you send me Luke Cage’s file?”  He rotated his screen as images and documents began flashing across it.  “Send it to Peter’s, too,” he added belatedly as Peter tried to read the file over his shoulder.  The file Hydra’d had on this guy had been particularly extensive, full of surveillance photos and notes, either because they’d had a strong interest in the man for their plans or because he’d harder to find. 

            “Hey, Mr. Stark, what about this place?” Peter zoomed in on a barbershop that featured in a lot of the photos.

            “Yeah, I saw that too, but.” He showed Peter his screen – ‘Local Institution Closed After 30 Years in Business,’ a local newspaper headline read, dated three months ago. “After Hydra picked up Cage it got foreclosed.”

            “Oh.” Peter kept scrolling, skimming over the files until a name caught his eye. “Huh.”

            “What?”

            Peter highlighted a name and showed Mr. Stark. “This guy, Matt Murdock.  He was in the Raft, too, I called him yesterday.  Looks like he was Mr. Cage’s lawyer.”

            “Ok.  Follow that lead and if you get anything, let me know.  I'll also see if JARVIS can find anything.” Mr. Stark dismissed the files and was starting to call Happy when Peter put a hand on his arm, stilling him.  Peter was staring hard up and down the mostly deserted street, trying to figure out why his skin was starting to crawl.

            “We need to move,” he said suddenly, hand tightening as he pulled Mr. Stark down the street, his instincts screaming at him to take cover.  There was a sharp crack and right where Mr. Stark had been standing there was a quarter sized hole in the brick wall.

            “Yep, we’re moving,” he said, eyes wide, and followed Peter as he kicked in the boarded up door and shouldered his way into the burned out building.  Peter’s nerves were still screaming, making his heart race and dialing his senses up to eleven as they moved away from the boarded up windows.  The bar was oppressively dark after the bright sunlight outside and still smelled overwhelmingly of some sort of fuel, stinging his sinuses and eyes and coating his tongue.  Peter moved as quickly as he dared while his eyes adjusted, edging around broken glass and overturned barstools to the back room only to almost walk face first into the gleaming barrel of a gun.


	6. Flashback

_3 Weeks Ago_

          “So why are you doing this?” Castle asked, hands moving over the disassembled rifle with the ease of long familiarity. He tilted his head towards the papers and pictures strewn across the table that dominated the center of the room and the leadership chart on the far wall, with a red X over a good half of the faces.

          “I made a vow,” Loki said after a moment, looking up from the papers he was perusing. “Hydra's apothegm is, 'if one falls, two shall rise,' so I consider this part of my due diligence. Also, I find humans to be rather forgiving, as a race. Too much so, really. None of these individuals should be allowed to slip through the cracks and go on with their lives.”

          “Yeah?”  Castle glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You know, I looked you up and it seems like you were the beneficiary of some of that forgiveness.”

          “My case in point,” Loki said wryly, shuffling the papers into a stack and setting them to the side. 

          Castle’s hands stilled and he sat back in the chair to consider Loki.  “You saying it was a mistake?”

          “No.  I bear this realm no ill will…as long as no one harms me or mine.”  Castle gave him a long look before he grunted and went back to cleaning and reassembling his rifle. Loki drummed his fingers on the table and watched him with amusement. “And what were you prepared to do had I answered otherwise?”

          Castle shrugged. “Whatever I had to.” 

          Loki made a thoughtful noise at that but didn’t respond. He just pulled up a few images on his phone and slid it across the table to Castle. “If you see any of these men, contact me.  You will likely need reinforcements.”

          “Haven’t needed reinforcements yet," Castle commented as he picked up the phone and scrolled through the photos before grunting again and handing it back.  "Who are they?"

          "Winter Soldiers."

          Castle snorted. "Bullshit."  When Loki was silent, he looked up.  "There's only one Winter Soldier and he sure as shit isn't real and walking around New York City."

          "I assure you, there is more than one and they are very real," Loki said as he stood to leave. "In either case, I would proceed with caution. I'm sure what is left of Hydra is aware of you and what you've been doing." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/26: Sorry for the ongoing cliffhanger! I will post another chapter tomorrow. :)


	7. Finding Frank

          Peter held up his hands and struggled to stay on his feet as Mr. Stark ran into his back, heart pounding as he started to sweat.  He swallowed thickly and tried not to panic. “Peter, what-” Peter knew the exact moment that Mr. Stark saw the gun because there was a scuffle where he tried to pull Peter behind him, but there was no way Peter was going to let that happen as long as Mr. Stark wasn’t wearing his armor.  

          “What are you doing here?” A gruff voice said from the shadows.  Peter could see the outline of a tall, burly man wearing a long jacket but couldn’t make out his face; the hand on the pistol, though, was scarred and recently bloodied and importantly, looked very comfortable holding that gun.

          “We were looking for Luke Cage,” Peter blurted right as Mr. Stark said, “Someone was shooting at us.”

          “Shooting? From where?” Peter pointed behind them and the man grunted.

          “Alright.” He stepped to the side and gestured with the pistol towards what would have been the store room of the bar. “Start walking.  Looks like I got business to deal with and I don’t need you two getting in my way.” The man had them sit back against one of the big metal poles supporting the ceiling and pulled some military grade zip tie cuffs out of his jacket.  Peter stared at the cuffs and realized his hands were shaking and he was breathing too fast, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

          “It’s ok, kid,” he heard Mr. Stark say from far away, and then there were warm hands on his wrists, calloused thumbs rubbing circles over his pulse points. “We’re going to be fine.  Just breathe.”

          “I’m not going to hurt you unless you make me,” the man said as he cuffed their arms behind their backs with a brusque efficiency, tightening the zip ties down just before the point of pain.  “Stay here.  I’m sure someone will be looking for you soon.”  The man rummaged through their pockets and took their cell phones, tossing them in a far corner of the room as he left.

          As the man’s footsteps receded into the distance, Peter stared at the cinder block wall in front of him and tried to slow down his racing heart, sucking in deep breaths through his nose and exhaling slowly.  Behind him, he heard Mr. Stark move, jostling him as their arms brushed. “You ok there, Peter?”

          “Yeah, I’m good.”  He was actually really proud of how steady his voice sounded while the rest of him felt like he was shaking apart.

          “I thought you said you hadn’t had any panic attacks.”

          “This was the first time.  When I saw the cuffs, I just…”  Hydra had tightened them down enough that they had dug painfully into his wrists, making his fingers go numb after just a few minutes. It had been just after the hood that had felt like he was suffocating and just before the stun baton that left him limp and helpless.

          “It’s ok, I understand,” Mr. Stark said soothingly. “Still haven’t called any of those numbers I gave you?”

          Peter winced.  “No. Not yet.” 

          The silence after that was decidedly disapproving, but instead of a lecture after a few moments Mr. Stark just said, “Ok.  So…How’s school going?”

          “Fine.” There was a long, expectant silence and Peter finally said, “I think I need to get a planner or something, I keep forgetting assignments. So, um, when are you going to call your suit?”

          Mr. Stark shifted again and cleared his throat. “Well, you see, if I call the suit then Loki will know and then I’ll never hear the end of it.  And we’re not really in danger, so…”

          “You’d rather sit here and wait for someone to notice us missing than for Mr. Loki to find out you got tied up?”

          “Yes,” Mr. Stark said without hesitation. “Plus it's dangerous to call the suit this close to someone, it tends to..interfere with things on an atomic level.  Happy knows where we were going, so when we don’t call him soon he’ll come looking for us.”  Privately, Peter figured that the first thing Happy would do if they came up missing would be to _call Mr. Loki,_ but he just sighed and rested his head on his drawn up knees.  “So how’s Aunt May and Ned?”

          “They’re fine.”

          “How’s everything else going?”  

          “Everything’s _fine_ , Mr. Stark.”

          There was a pause and Peter knew he’d screwed up.  “Well when you say it like that, it sounds so believable,” Mr. Stark said dryly. “Come on. What is it, kid?”

          “Nothing,” Peter muttered, scuffing his feet in the dirt and ash of the bar.

          “Alright.”  Mr. Stark said, and Peter felt him shrug and shift to get more comfortable. “Have you seen Loki's statue recently?"

          In spite of himself, Peter laughed.  “Yeah, how now it says 'Your Savior is Here'?”

          “Yeah. The mayor is _furious,_ ” Mr. Stark said fondly.  They sat there in silence for a few moments before Mr. Stark spoke up again. “Hey, if I'm remembering correctly, isn't there a video of you catching a car before it could broadside a bus?”   

 "Yeah, wh-" _Oh, G_ _od._   Peter’s face suddenly felt like it was on fire. “Sorry, Mr. Stark,” he said sheepishly. There was a sharp snap as Peter broke the plastic zip tie cuff on his wrists and then he turned around to break the one on Mr. Stark's. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

          “I hear you.” Mr. Stark took Peter’s hand to stand up, rubbing his wrists a bit while Peter retrieved their phones, and then he stopped Peter with a touch on his shoulder. “You know, if you need to talk, I’m here, ok?  I’m not the best at this kind of thing – Pepper was always the, you know, well-adjusted one – but I’ll try.”

          Peter nodded and there was another long minute of quiet before he managed to force out, “There _was_ something I’ve been wanting to ask you about.” He stared over Mr. Stark's shoulder, trying not to lose his courage, and bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to figure out how to say it.  Mr. Stark waited patiently, his hand still a spot of warm connection on Peter's shoulder. “How did you know you were gay?” Peter finally asked, still avoiding Mr. Stark's eyes and trying not to fidget.

          “Well,” Mr. Stark said slowly, “I’m not-”

          “I mean, you know, bisexual.”

          Mr. Stark put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, gaze far away. “Well that’s a pretty distinct memory.  I was rooming with Rhodey at the time and he came back from the gym and started stripping to take a shower.” Peter wrinkled his nose at the thought of Colonel Rhodes naked and Mr. Stark shrugged.  “Let’s say I realized I had more than an aesthetic appreciation for the male form.”  He was quiet for a while to let Peter have a moment to say something, but when the silence lengthened he said, “Are you, um, trying to tell me something? Because you know-“

          “No, no, I’m not saying – I’m not gay.  I guess. I mean, maybe?” Peter blew out a long breath as he thought about it. “If you didn’t know until you were in college…”

          “Peter, I was your age when I was in college.  I mean sure, it’s ok to not know right now, you’re only fifteen-“

          “Sixteen.”

          “A teenager,” Mr. Stark finished, then he hesitated.  “Wait, I’m confused.  Are you worried you might be gay, or that you might _not_ be gay?”

          Peter made a noise of frustration and kicked at a piece of debris.  “Never mind.”

          “C’mon, I’m trying here. This is like, advanced level parenting and I haven’t taken any of the prerequisites-“

          Peter forced himself to meet Mr. Stark’s gaze, to the brown eyes watching him with worry. “Can we just talk about it later? I need more time to think.”

          “Ok." After a second Mr. Stark clapped a hand on his back and gestured towards the back door. "Let’s get out of here and never tell anyone this happened, yeah?”

          "Yeah." Peter took a step towards the exit and stopped. "But what about the person shooting at us?"

          Mr. Stark stared at him for a moment. "Right. That."

          "Yeah."

          "Goddammit," Mr. Stark sighed and pulled out his phone.  "Hey, Loki, the kid and I need a ride."  He paused to listen and then said, "If I told you it was because I don't feel like sitting in traffic, would you believe me?"


	8. Meeting with Matt

      _The BS part about being a secret superhero,_ Peter thought later on that day, _is that it doesn't get you out of doing homework._ He stared at his math book, trying to make his brain concentrate on calculus when the only thing that kept going through his head was a shiny gun barrel and plastic cuffs.  He stared at the numbers and variables and thought, _I was shot at this morning_ , and the surreal juxtaposition of those two things was not helping his concentration.  He caught himself tapping his pencil so hard on his desk that the graphite was breaking. He forced himself to put it down.  After a few minutes he realized that he was jogging his leg so much that the table was shaking; with a sigh, he closed his book and grabbed his phone.  “Hey, Ned,” he said as he fell back onto his bed.  “What are you doing?”

      “Cleaning,” Ned complained.  In the background Peter could hear the clatter of dishes.  “You?”

      “Trying to do this calc homework, having trouble concentrating.”

      “Yeah, I heard that.  This unit is way more boring that the last one.” Peter frowned at the bottom of the top bunk, trying to remember for the life of him what they had studied last week.  Integrals? _Who even cares_ , Peter thought, rubbing his eyes. “Any fun plans for today?” Ned asked. 

      “Not really.” For a moment he ached to tell Ned everything, about the Raft and Mr. Stark and getting shot at and the nightmares, just to tell _someone_ , but Ned was already talking about some movie coming out next week, so Peter just swallowed around the tightness in his chest and tried to laugh at all the right spots.  Despite himself, though, listening to Ned talk movies and excitedly recount the latest episode of his favorite anime did actually make him feel better, made the events of that morning seem a little farther away.  When they hung up he finished the calc problems and even read ahead for their English class before wandering out in the living room, where the smell of spaghetti made his stomach rumble.

      “Oh, you’re joining me for dinner?” Aunt May said in surprise, making Peter hesitate when he went for a plate.  “I just mean that you’ve been out and about a lot lately, so I just didn’t know if I should expect you.”

      “I’m sorry,” Peter said guiltily.

      “No, don't be," she said, elbowing him lightly in the side. "It’s ok. I know you’ve got a lot going on with school and Mr. Stark and everything.”  He turned and rested his head against her shoulder, then wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.

      “That’s no excuse,” he said. “I want to hang out with you tonight, if you’re not busy.”

      “Sounds good.”  She squeezed him tightly for a moment and then ruffled his hair as she pulled away.  Pretending to scowl, he finger-brushed his hair flat again and turned back to the stove.  “We’ve got a lot of episodes of Brooklyn-99 to catch up on.” 

      To his surprise, Peter actually found himself dozing off after dinner, relaxed and full of spaghetti; he had no idea how many episodes he slept through, but when he woke up he realized that the room was dark and that Aunt May had covered him with a blanket.  Groggy, he stumbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth and fell into bed, but after thirty minutes of staring at the darkness of his room he gave up on going back to sleep for the moment and dug out his Stark phone.  He checked the time and did the math before pulling up a contact that he’d been avoiding for a while.

      “Hello, this is Scott,” a voice said on the other end, sounding slightly puzzled.  Peter found himself smiling at the familiar voice.

      “Hey, Scott, it’s-”

      “Peter!" Scott exclaimed. "Hey, man, how are you?” Peter was surprised at how excited Scott sounded and felt bad for putting this call off for so long.  “It’s good to hear from you, I’ve been wondering how you were doing.”

      “I’m doing great,” Peter said, and then amended, “well, I’m doing alright.  You know.”

      “Oh, I'm sorry dude.  But you’re ok?”

      “Yeah, I’m ok.  How are you?”

      “Can’t complain,” Scott said, and then said, “hold on a second.”  Peter heard him say, _‘hold on, sweetie, I’m talking to a friend, I’ll be right back_ ’ and then there was the sound of a door closing. “When we got released, I got some money and a pretty sweet job offer, so I’m finally able to hang out with my daughter more. Doesn’t get much better than that.”

      “That’s awesome, Scott, I’m glad to hear it,” Peter said honestly.  Scott’s cell had been right across from his, and even though talking between cells was aggressively discouraged and required a lot of yelling and gestures just to be heard, it had been nice to have someone to talk to.  Other than Scott and the hushed conversations in stolen moments when two or more of the prisoners had been within speaking distance, Peter's only human contact for those long months had been with the guards. 

      “So what’s up? Can I help you with something?” Peter’s usual spiel took only half as long, because Scott caught on immediately. “Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea.  Is it cool if I let some people know that they should call the number in an emergency? Like my daughter?”

      “Of course,” Peter said, remembering the story Scott had told him about the guy who had tried to kidnap his daughter a few years ago.  "That's a great idea, I'll be sure to tell the others."

      “Awesome.  Well, I gotta go in a minute but first I have to ask – I saw the award ceremony, and was that you up there? Next to War Machine and Iron Man?”

      Peter grinned at the memory.  “Yeah, that was me,” he said.

      “Holy shit! That’s crazy! So it _was_ you in DC on those flying ships.  What was it like? What’s Tony Stark like? Did you meet Captain America?”

***

      On Thursday Peter had just enough time after school got out to make it over to the lawyer’s offices before they closed, glad that his last class had gotten out a bit early.  But when he approached Mr. Murdock’s building he was surprised to see Mr. Stark waiting for him. “Mr. Stark, what-”

      “Peter,” Mr. Stark said. “Before you can ask what I’m doing here, can I say something first?”  When Peter nodded, Mr. Stark took off his sunglasses so he could look him in the eyes.  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it, and I know you want to do all of this yourself, I get it. Some people have a hard time accepting help, much less asking for it. I think it’s a hero thing,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “But Hydra proved that we are more vulnerable working alone, that’s the whole point of this exercise. So just let me tag along, yeah?” When Peter nodded, Tony slung an arm over his shoulders and put his sunglasses back on. “Besides, you’ve had the new suit for over a month, I want to hear your thoughts.”

      “The suit is great, Mr. Stark, but I was actually going to ask about…that.” Mr. Stark followed Peter’s gaze to where Peter was staring up at the giant robot looming over them on the sidewalk.  It looked a little like an overgrown Iron Man suit with an early Renaissance aesthetic.  They barely came up to mid-thigh on it.

      Mr. Stark sighed.  “Oh. Yeah, Loki thinks he’s being funny.  He ordered it to follow me because of what happened last time.” He started waving his arms at the giant robot. “Hey! HEY! GO HOME!” He shouted as it turned its head laboriously towards them. “ENOUGH, LOKI, I GET IT.  We’re going to get helicopters and shit any minute now!”  After a minute, it or Loki must have gotten the message because it disappeared.

      “What _was_ that?”

      “Loki asked me to build it for him a few months ago in exchange for his help with the whole Hydra thing. Same reason he got the statue.  That thing’s _supposed_ to be on Asgard but I think Loki’s having a hard time not playing with his new toys.”  Tony held the door open and gestured for Peter to go first.  Like Jessica’s office, this one had a smoked class door with “Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at Law” written on it, but this time when they went in it was an actual office with a waiting area and everything.

      “I’m Peter Parker, I have a meeting with Mr. Murdock?” Peter said to the receptionist, who had stood immediately when they came in and came around her desk to shake their hands. 

      “I’m Karen, welcome to Nelson and Murdock.  Matt will be with you shortly,” she promised.  She stared at Mr. Stark in surprise for an awkwardly long moment before she looked back at Peter, cheeks a bit pink. “Would you like coffee or something to drink?”

      “I’m good,” Peter said, and before they could take a seat the door to one of the offices opened, and a slightly built man with light brown hair and an open, friendly face greeted them. 

      “Is this my four o’clock?” The man said with a small smile, holding his hand out.  "Mr. Parker, I assume." Peter took it and shook it, realizing from the red glasses and slight tilt to Mr. Murdock’s head that the man was blind.  He wondered queasily if Hydra had done it before he pushed the thought away. 

      “Who is this?” Mr. Murdock asked politely, interrupting Peter’s thoughts as he turned to face Mr. Stark, somehow aware that he was here even though Mr. Stark hadn’t said anything.

      “Tony Stark,” he answered, shaking Mr. Murdock’s hand as well.  His eyebrows flew up when he saw the bruises on Mr. Murdock's knuckles but he didn't comment. 

      “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark,” he said in surprise and he stepped aside for them to go into his office.  Peter and Tony took the two chairs in front of the desk while Mr. Murdock closed the door behind them and walked with careful familiarity around the desk to his office chair. “Thank you for your help in releasing me from the Raft,” he said, smoothing his tie as he sat.  "I understand from your...compatriot that you were responsible for securing our freedom."

 _Compatriot?_ Peter glanced at Mr. Stark and Mr. Stark mouthed  _'Loki'_ at him as he started to wave away the lawyer’s words before realizing that the man couldn’t see the gesture. “No thanks necessary,” Mr. Stark said instead.  “I’m sorry I didn’t know about it sooner, before they were able to get to so many people.”

      “I understand from Jessica that that’s why you are here today,” Mr. Murdock said, crossing his hands together as he leaned over his desk. 

      “You know Jessica?” Peter said in surprise.  This polite, soft-spoken man seemed like the complete opposite of Jessica.  “What did she say?”

      “She said I might be contacted by a quote ‘well-meaning, nosy do-gooder kid,’ unquote.  With that kind of rousing endorsement I had to meet you."  As he described the project, Peter pulled out one of the cards from his pocket, hesitating for a moment before he slid a card across the desk, nudging one of Mr. Murdock’s hands with it.  The lawyer picked it up and ran his fingers over it, fingers tracing the slightly raised symbol and numbers.  “It’s a good idea, in theory,” Mr. Murdock said cautiously when Peter was done.  “But aren’t you worried that something like this might just make someone like Hydra find us all faster next time?”

      “That number goes straight to Peter’s phone, and he’s the only one who can access it,” Mr. Stark explained. “The numbers are backed up to my AI’s mainframe under so many levels of encryption that even I wouldn’t be able to hack it.  If someone tries, an alert will be sent out to every number warning them that the number is compromised.  I've tried to make this as villain proof as possible, and believe me, I have some top notch consultants in that regard.”

      "I'm sure."  Mr. Murdock leaned back in his seat, running a hand over his mouth in thought. “And if Mr. Parker himself is compromised?”

      “That’s not gonna happen,” Mr. Stark said, voice suddenly so cold and hard that Peter and Mr. Murdock both stared at him in surprise.

      “Okay,” Mr. Murdock said after a long, awkward moment.  “I believe you.  You can have my number and I’ll have one of my associates program yours into my phone under ‘emergency.’”

      “I can do it,” Peter offered, and Mr. Murdock unlocked his phone and slid it across his desk. As Peter reached for it, Mr. Stark nudged his foot and mouthed _Luke Cage_ at him.  “Oh, and we had another question.  We’ve been looking for Mr. Luke Cage, but we don’t know how to reach him. Did you, um, were you his lawyer?”

      “I did consult on some of his cases,” Mr. Murdock said as Peter's fingers flew over his phone. “Are you looking for him because of this…project?”

      “Yeah. I mean, yes, sir.”

      “Well, I can’t give you his contact information, but if you want, I can give him your number and see if he wants to call.  He’s not a terribly trusting individual.”

      “No I imagine not,” Mr. Stark said. “So how have you been? Everything back to normal?”

      “Somewhat,” Mr. Murdock said, drumming his fingers on his desk.  He gestured to the stack of paperwork on the side of his desk. “We’ve been trying to sue for damages, for both myself and everyone else that was held illegally.”

      “Like Luke Cage?”

      “Like everyone,” Mr. Murdock repeated with emphasis. “But we’ve been having problems finding the party that is legally liable. Strangely enough, an illicit Nazi-era organization bent on world domination has been hard to bring to court. It doesn’t help that we’ve been getting pushback and high levels. It’s almost as if someone wants all of this to just,” he spread his hands wide, “go away.”

      That made Mr. Stark sit up, eyes sharpening. “Really.  What kind of pushback?”

      “Dodging subpoenas, conveniently losing documents, not answering requests for information. You know, the usual,” Matt answered dryly.

      “So what you would expect from people with something to hide.”

      “Exactly.”

      “Hmm,” Mr. Stark said thoughtfully, and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a checkbook.  “Your business is called Nelson and Murdock?” He asked as he scribbled on the check.

      “Yes…?”

      “Here,” he said, ripping the check out.  “Consider yourself on retainer, I want you guys to keep digging.  Let me know if you need any other help.”

      Mr. Murdock seemed a bit nonplussed for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “Please give it to our assistant, Karen.”  Hearing her name, the friendly blonde lady who had answered the door popped her head into the office.  Mr. Stark handed her a check and she murmured a discreet “thank you” as she closed the door.   A second later her surprised “ _holy shit!_ ” could clearly be heard through the thin walls, and then there was the sound of something being knocked over as her heels clacked across the floor and then there was a much louder “holy shit!” said in a man’s voice.

      Mr. Stark cleared his throat to disguise his smile as Mr. Murdock looked chagrined.  “We do a lot of pro bono cases around here,” he explained, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.  “We’ve actually been paid in tubs of salsa before. Look, Mr. Stark-”

      “And now you can do a lot more pro bono cases,” Mr. Stark said over whatever Mr. Murdock was going to say. “I was really impressed with the work you did uncovering Wilson Fisk.  I’m interested to see what you can accomplish against Hydra.”

      “Ok. Will that be all?”

      Peter handed Mr. Murdock’s phone back across the desk. “I think so. Unless you, um, have any questions for me?”

      Mr. Murdock gestured with his phone and smiled. “If I do, I know how to contact you.”  He stood and held out his hand again. “Thank you, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I never have to speak to you again.”

      “Me too,” Peter said honestly, standing and shaking his hand.

      “Again, let me know if you need anything,” Mr. Stark said as he shook his hand as well.  “I might have access to some resources that you don’t.”

      “Maybe a few,” Mr. Murdock said dryly as he led them to the door, finding the door knob with easy precision.  “Have a good day Mr. Parker, Mr. Stark.”

      Mr. Stark was quiet and apparently lost in thought as they went back down the elevator.  As Peter started to say goodbye Mr. Stark’s eyes refocused on him.  “Hey, before you go - would you like to come to the tower tomorrow for dinner?  A bunch of people are coming by and I have something for you.”

      “Sure,” Peter said in surprise. “Can I, um, bring Aunt May?”

      “Of course.  The more the merrier.  I’ll tell Barnes to be on his best behavior.”

***

      After what looked like some truly agonizing indecision, Aunt May told Peter to go without her because she had already made plans to meet some college friends for drinks.  After she left, Peter decided to take the fast and scenic way to Stark Tower instead of spending an hour on the train.  He landed on the balcony at the top of the tower, hopping over the railing down to the second level of the balcony where the door was always left unlocked.  So many people had taken to using the balcony to reach Mr. Stark's condo that he'd eventually had a sign made that said “Superhero Entrance.”  Next to it, positioned over a series of holes that had been punched into the exterior of the tower, there was a sign that said “Superasshole Entrance.”  Mr. Stark had explained that the sign was for Mr. Barnes, who liked to climb up the outside of the building instead of using the elevator.

      “Hey, Pete,” Mr. Stark greeted as Peter came inside and pulled off his mask. “Have you had a good day? Finished your homework?” He paused and scratched his chin thoughtfully.  “That’s what a good mentor would say, right? Did I miss anything?”

      "I even cleaned my room before I came over,” Peter said with a smile, taking a seat at the bar.

      “Good job.” Mr. Stark gestured towards a backpack that was sitting on the bar counter. “That’s for you, kid.  I heard you had a problem keeping backpacks.”

      “Oh, thanks!” Peter went to pick it up and raised his eyebrows when it turned out to be much heavier than he expected. Unzipping it, he started protesting as soon as he pulled out a laptop. “Mr. Stark, you already gave me the suit, that’s…that’s a lot, I mean I know it’s probably worth like, millions of dollars-”

      Tony waved off his protests. “Kid, I gave Spider-Man a suit.  I’m giving _Peter Parker_ a computer.  That baby’s got a lot of processing power, so use it responsibly. Don’t try to take over the world or anything, Loki wouldn’t like the competition.”

      That made Peter pause in the middle of powering it on.  “Is he, uh, still trying to do that?”

      “Honestly, I don’t even know anymore.  Would you like some coffee?” He poured himself a cup and then grabbed another one from the pantry for Peter. “Wait, are you allowed to have coffee?” He asked suspiciously, holding the cup just out of reach.  "It's not going to stunt your growth is it?"

      “Coffee would be great, thanks.” Peter took the cup and hesitated, looking at the coffee inside warily. “Um, did you make it, or did Mr. Loki make it?”

      “I made it. The Asgardian coffee pot is over there.” Mr. Stark gestured towards a coffee pot in the corner that had a skull and crossbones sign on it. 

      Peter took a grateful sip and glanced around the room, surprised that he was the first one here.  He knew he’d gotten there early but didn't think it was  _that_ early.  Unless this was one of those things where he was supposed to show up late? Shit. He totally should have shown up late, swinging onto the balcony all like ‘ _what’s up guys_ ’ like it was no big deal. 

      As Peter underwent a silent crisis of coolness, Tony took a bracing drink of his coffee and gestured for Peter to join him on the couch.  Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his hands around his cup and said, “Now, before everyone else gets here, I’ve been thinking about that conversational disaster we had a few days ago and I’m ready to try again, ok?”

      Peter made a strangled noise. “Ok,” he said a little weakly.

      Tony hesitated at Peter’s distress. “Would you rather talk to Loki?”  At that Peter actually went pale and a little green, so Tony hurried to explain. “What I mean is, most people don’t know that Loki can, um, change into a woman? Whenever he feels like it?  So if you…” Tony raked his hands through his hair and bit his lip, trying to find the right words.  “You know, they say that gender is a social construct-”

      Peter’s eyes got wide as he understood what Tony was trying to say. “No, no, it’s not like that.  But, uh, thank you, and that is really…interesting to know about Mr. Loki.” There was a pause and Tony looked at Peter expectantly, but Peter just stared at his hands.

      “You know, you don’t have to call him Mr. Loki.”

      Peter made a skeptical face and snorted. “Oh, yes I do.  I tried calling him Loki once and I thought he was going to turn me into an actual spider.”

      “But you don’t call Thor Mr. Thor. Or I guess it would be Mr. Odinson.” Which was a good point.  What was Loki’s last name these days, anyway? Tony smiled when he imagined the look on Loki’s face if Tony suggested he take Stark as his name.

      “That’s because he _told_ me to call him Thor.  Loki implied I should call him ‘Your Majesty,’ so Mr. Loki feels like a good compromise.”

      Tony started to explain but realized they were getting off topic.  “So what _were_ you trying to tell me?  Are you seeing someone?”

      “No...” Peter said slowly.

      “Is there someone you’re interested in? I know I have – _had-_ a bit of a reputation, but-”

      “Well, that’s kind of-” Before he could finish, the elevator dinged and the doors opened, and Peter let out a sigh of relief when Sam and Rhodey came off the elevator arguing about some musician Peter’d never heard of.  He waved hello and gratefully ducked behind his laptop as Tony got pulled into their conversation.

***

      “I give up,” Tony announced once everyone else left, throwing himself on the couch next to a reading Loki. “What am I going to do about the kid?”  When Loki didn’t respond, Tony threw his arm over his eyes and sighed dramatically, turning to lie across Loki’s lap.  After a minute, Loki marked his page and set the book down.

      “The child _is_ trying to tell you something important, but he is hoping that you figure it out to save him the difficulty of telling you.”

      “How can you tell?”  Loki raised an eyebrow at Tony, who rolled his eyes. “What I mean is, whenever he comes around you disappear. I think he thinks you don’t like him.”

      “I did not intend to give that impression. Your time together is good for you both, I didn’t wish to interrupt.”

      “Do you know what he wants to talk about?”

      “Of course.”

      “What the hell?” Tony gaped. “Then just tell me, and save us both this torture!”

      Loki gave him an aggravated look. “First, it is not polite to reveal secrets I obtained by virtue of hearing his thoughts, even if they are all but screamed at me. Second, it will do both of you good to learn how to use your words.”

      “You mean to talk about… _feelings_?” Tony said, wrinkling his nose.

      “That too.”

      “You just like to see me suffer,” Tony accused.

      “It _is_ rather entertaining to see you both fumble about the topic.  As if sex is so dire as to require this amount of tribulation.”

      Tony groaned and buried his face in a pillow.


	9. Secrets Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter realizes he might be in a little over his head and Tony gets to save the day.

            Peter was jogging desultorily around the basketball court for gym class, staring at feet scuffing along on the wooden floors, when the hairs on his arm went up; he glanced up just in time to get beaned in the face with a kickball.

            “Heads up, Penis Parker,” Flash said with a laugh as the ball bounced away with loud pongs.

            “Flash!” The gym teacher said sharply.  “Not at peoples’ heads.”

            Peter scowled and picked up the ball as Flash apologized insincerely.  His fingers tightened on it as he imagined throwing it back at Flash; he could throw it hard enough to pop the ball, he knew, because he’d done it by accident when he’d first gotten his powers.  How much would it hurt if it hit someone that hard?  If he hit Flash right in that smarmy smile, would it-

            “Asshole,” Ned scowled, making Peter jump.  He swallowed and dropped the ball, kicking it away lightly as he started to jog again.

            “Liz is watching you,” Ned said, flashing her and her friends a smile as he shuffled next to Peter.

            “Why? Wanting to see if I get hit in the head again?” Peter muttered, mustering some kind of smile and a lame wave when he saw that Liz was indeed looking at him.

            “Probably wanting to know if you’re going to get off your ass and ask her to Homecoming already,” MJ commented as she jogged up and passed them.

            Peter hung his head and swallowed back a groan. _Right. Homecoming._

            “Well? Are you?” Ned asked. He gave up on the pretense of running and slowed to a walk.  “I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes.”

            Peter took a couple more steps and gave up as well, blowing out a long breath in frustration.  “I’m not gonna go to Homecoming.”

            “What? Why not?”

            “Because I don’t want to,” Peter snapped, and immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, Ned.  I just haven’t been sleeping well, and-”

            “No, it’s cool man,” Ned shrugged, though he still looked surprised.  “Whatever you want to do.  I mean, I’m gonna go, if you change your mind.”

            Peter sighed. “When is it again?”

***

            On the train ride home, Peter rested his head against the glass, feeling the vibration of the tracks as he sightlessly watched the city go by.  The rocking of the train was soothing, and for once the heat of all the bodies pressed together was relaxing rather than oppressive.  His eyes drooped, and he realized that yet another sleepless night had left him so tired that his head ached with it, brain feeling fizzy and his thoughts aimless. He tried to remember what homework he had tonight, or if he was supposed to do something for Mr. Stark, but he couldn’t concentrate long enough to remember and the idea of digging through his bag for his planner seemed like way too much work.

            At least today he got off on the right stop, letting the wave of people leaving the train carry him in their wake down the platform and through the turnstiles before they dissipated in the city streets. 

            As he was fumbling for the keys to his apartment building, the Starkphone started to ring.  He glanced at the phone but didn’t recognize the number. “Hello, this is Peter?” he asked cautiously, looking around to make sure he wasn’t being watched before he jumped nine feet up onto the fire escape going up the side of the building.

            “Who are you and why have you been looking for me?” A deep voice demanded suspiciously.

            “Who is this?”  There was a long silence and somehow Peter could tell that that the man on the phone was about to hang up.  “Wait, wait,” he said hurriedly. “This is Luke Cage, right? Did Mr. Murdock give you this number?”

            “Man, you’re just a kid!” Luke said with disgust.

            “Hey, I am _not_ just a kid,” Peter said forcefully.  He climbed up a few more levels on the fire escape so that people on the street below wouldn’t be able to hear him.  “I was on the Raft too, just like you, and Mr. Murdock and Captain Rogers,” he said, voice lower.  “Hydra didn't care that I am seventeen, okay? So just hear me out." 

            There was another long silence and then Luke said, "I'm listening."

            "If you got this number from Mr. Murdock, he probably already told you why, right? Which means you're probably calling because you need help with something.”  Luke went silent again and Peter exhaled in frustration, letting his head fall back against the brick wall of the building. Why in the world were these people so opposed to working together? “You can’t keep doing this lone vigilante thing, none of us can. That’s how Hydra picked us off one by one in the first place.  What happens the next time you need real backup? Can’t call the cops, right? Because they might get hurt. What you need is someone who has powers, powers like you.” 

            “I get what you’re doing, kid,” Luke said after a while.  “But I’m not out to join the Avengers, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to call a teenager for backup.”  Then he hung up.

            Peter took a deep breath, hand tightening on the phone. He let it out slowly and finished climbing up to his apartment.  

 

            _Peter fidgeted as he stood in line with the others, limbs heavy with dread as he waited to see if he’d be picked. The room he was in looked like the gym, but he knew it wasn’t, it was the Raft again, he could tell because it was cold and there was metal against his back._

_Liz stepped in front of him with a wide smile and held out her hand. Peter took it, afraid of what would happen if he didn’t, and they danced.  Ned gave him a thumbs up and behind him, a faceless guard loomed. The music got faster so Peter moved faster, hoping he was doing it right, but when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder he knew he’d failed._

_“Time to go, kid,” Iron Man said. “I’m sure you’ll do better next time.”_

            “No!” Peter jerked awake, wincing when he banged his head on the railing of the fire escape; he must have fallen asleep when he'd come outside to escape the confines of his room. He took a deep breath, shivering a little in the cool night air, and climbed back into his room.  He felt cold, right down to the bone, so he turned on the shower and prayed that the noise wouldn’t wake Aunt May. This time of night, he got all the hot water he wanted; he let the heat of it beat down on his shoulders and turn his skin pink, trying to fight off the physical memory of the cold, hard showers on the Raft.  

            Eventually he turned the water off and tried not to drip everywhere as he reached for a towel.  He felt a little better, even though his mind kept feeling around the edges of his nightmare like poking a bruise. He grabbed the blanket from his bed and wrapped himself in it as he stretched out on the couch, grabbing his phone from the coffee table. He flipped the phone over and over in his hands, thinking, until with a sigh, he turned it on and slowly typed _P-T-S-D_ in the search bar. His finger hovered over the first link that came up, but after a moment he closed the window without clicking on anything and set the phone aside to try to get more sleep.

***

            “You know Pete, if you’re not like, into Liz, that’s cool. It’s whatever,” Ned said out of the middle of nowhere while they were eating lunch.

            Peter glanced up from his soggy fries to see Ned watching him with concern. “What-what do you mean?”

            “I mean, if you don’t want to ask her to Homecoming, don’t stress about it.” Ned shrugged and opened a bag of chips. “I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything.”

            "Oh." Peter fidgeted with his fries for a second, then he said, “Hey, speaking of-”

            “Whoa whoa whoa, did I just hear that Parker here was going to ask out _Liz?_ ” Coming from what seemed like nowhere, Flash sat on the edge of the table to butt into the conversation. “First of all, she is way out of your league.  Second, I think we all know that Penis Parker is gay.” Flash grabbed one of Peter’s fries and took a bite, then made a face at it and dropped it back onto his plate. He raised his voice into a high falsetto. “Captain America is _so dreamy_.”

            “Shut up, Flash. I’m not _gay_ ,” Peter muttered, staring down at the table.  Then the words were bubbling up from his throat; he knew it was only going to make it worse, but he couldn’t keep them down.  “And don’t talk about Captain Rogers like that.”

            “Ooh, Captain _Rogers_ , is it?  You two really are butt buddies, huh?”

            “Stop it,” Peter said tightly, hands curling into fists.  The ketchup on his plate became the oozing red that had seeped around Peter’s fingers as he put pressure on Captain Rogers’ wounds, terrified that at any moment Sergeant Barnes was going to wake up and try to kill them again. The muted din of the lunchroom, the roar of conversation punctuated by the clatter of trays and plates, started to sound like the remote thunder of cannons firing overhead. He was distantly aware that his breathing was fast and shallow, but if he moved he was going to hit somebody, so he concentrated on staying very still.

            “Or else what, Parker?” When Peter kept his gaze fixed on his plate, Flash snorted and shook his head.  “God, you are _so lame.”_ He poured Peter’s drink over the rest of his lunch and then slid off the table.

            “What a jerk,” Ned muttered, grabbing some napkins to sop up some of the water soaking Peter’s tray. “Are you ok?”

            The concern in Ned’s voice broke Peter’s concentration; he inhaled sharply and his shoulders relaxed. “Uh, yeah,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt. He took some of the napkins from Ned to help clean up Flash’s mess.  Tossing the wet napkins onto his plate, he squeezed the back of his neck, trying to get the pain in his head to ease off.

            “Still coming over after school to study?” Ned asked as he stacked their trays together.

            “Yeah, I’ll meet you after math class.”

 

            “Hey, Ned?”  Peter asked later, drumming his highlighter against his Spanish textbook.

            “Yeah?” Ned set the vocab flashcard to the side and started a new one.

            “About Liz and homecoming…I think that maybe…” He shook his head and started again.  “I mean, I think I’m…” _broken,_ Peter’s unhelpful brain supplied.  He looked up at Ned’s open, curious expression and lost his courage. “I think I’m not going to go after all,” he finished instead.  “I’m not really feeling it, you know?”

            “Yeah, ok. Whatever, dude.  There’s always prom, right?”

            “Yeah.” Peter tried not to make a face at that and changed the subject. “Is there any pizza left?”

            “Sure.”  As Ned passed over the almost empty box, a phone rang.  It took Peter a couple of seconds to realize that it was the Stark phone, and then he was scrambling for his backpack.

            It was Jessica.  “Uh, I gotta take this,” Peter said. “I’ll be right back.”

            Ned’s parents were in the living room watching TV, so Peter headed for the bathroom for some privacy.

            “Hey, Jessica, what’s up?” Peter said, trying to be quiet.

            “Look, I got this voicemail from Luke and I can’t…I’ve got a thing.” Jessica said, her voice all sharp edges.  “This is what you guys wanted, right? He needs help.”

            “Yeah. Yeah, right.” Peter's heart started pounding and he took a deep breath.  This was it, it was showtime. _Keep it together, Parker._   “Do you know where he is?”           

            “He gave me an address.”  She rattled it off quickly, some address in Harlem.  “Don’t go by yourself,” she warned. “If I find out you did, I’ll kick your ass.”

            “Sure,” Peter lied. “I’ll call for backup, I promise.”

            “Ok, but for fuck’s sake make sure it’s not Iron Man.  Whatever Luke is into, I’m sure it does not need that kind of bullshit.”

            “I wasn’t going to call Iron Man,” Peter said, this time truthfully.  “It’s going to be fine, I promise. Thanks for calling.”

            “Goddammit, I already regret this,” Jessica said with resignation. “Look, kid-”

            “Gotta go, lives in the balance!” He said cheerfully, smiling as he hung up. He opened the door to the bathroom to Ned’s shocked face and he felt himself go pale.  "Oh, hey Ned," he said, praying that Ned hadn't overheard that conversation.

            “I was going to tell you to use my room for your mysterious phone call, because I had to pee,” he said. “What the _hell_ , Peter?”

            “Crap.” Peter looked over Ned’s shoulder to his parents and hustled Ned back into the bedroom.  “Look, I gotta go. I can’t talk now, but I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”

            “Do you really know Iron Man?” Ned said as he stumbled into his room, voice awed.

            “Yes,” Peter said, cramming his books and notebooks back into his backpack.

            “Holy cow! How? Wait, where are you going that you might need backup?”

            Peter tossed his backpack over his shoulders and faced Ned, who was clearly very close to having some sort of freak-out. “Please don’t tell anyone, ok? I’ll see you at school.”

            “Oh my God,” Ned said as Peter climbed out the window.  He stuck his head out the window to watch Peter climbing the fire escape to the roof. “You’re a superhero!”

            “Shh!” Peter hissed loudly. “That is the _opposite_ of not telling anyone!”

            “Yeah, yeah, right.  Ok.” Peter waited for his head to disappear before he started climbing up the wall to the roof.  Peter pulled his hood over his head as he webbed back home, sneaking in through the window for his suit.  When he got to the address he found that it was an old warehouse where the sign that said “Closed for Renovation” looked older than Peter himself; the other buildings crowded close, only looking in slightly better condition than the one where Mr. Cage was supposed to be.  Peter crawled from window to window, trying to figure out what was going on, but everything was dark and apparently abandoned.

            Except – he crawled backwards to the last window that he’d passed, one with a baseball sized hole in the glass.  Tilting his head, he was pretty sure he’d heard a thump.  He opened his mouth to call for Mr. Cage when common sense stopped him.  He circled the building again, this time looking for a way in, when a sharp burst of gunfire made him jump.

            And just like that, Peter’s world was suddenly nothing but noise, the barrage of bullets so loud to his enhanced senses that it was like being in an echo chamber. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breath – he froze as if by staying still, none of the bullets or the bad guys shooting them would find him. It wasn’t long before the cries of men in pain joined the clamor, every one of them making Peter flinch.

            He scrambled for cover, heart in his throat and hands over his ears, all thoughts of rescuing anyone lost in din.

 

            “Peter? Peter!”  An Iron Man suit landed next to where Peter was curled up against the brick wall on the edge of the roof, trying hard not to throw up.  The face plate flew up as Tony scanned Peter for injuries.  “Are you ok? What happened?”

            “Mr. Stark?” Peter felt like his teeth were chattering so he swallowed with difficulty and tried speaking again.  He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, but it probably hadn’t been long; there were still intermittent bouts of gunfire happing in the warehouse below him. “What- what are you doing here?”

            “Your suit’s AI registered the sound of gunfire and notified JARVIS.”  Tony crouched down in front of him. “What’s going on?”

            “Jessica called and said Luke Cage was in trouble. So I came-”  There was another burst of gunfire and then a scream of pain made Peter flinch again.  “I don’t know why I’m like this,” he said miserably. He felt like his guts were filled with cold water and he knew his hands would be shaking if they weren’t wrapped tightly around his knees.

            “Kid, you’re having a panic attack,” Tony said, gauntlets retreating so he could put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, squeezing them a little. “You went through some bad shit, kid, it’s normal to-”

            “But they didn’t even _do_ anything!” Peter shouted, pushing off the brick wall to get to his feet. “I mean, you almost died, and Mr. Barnes, you know, was brainwashed and stuff, and-”

            “Peter!” Tony shouted right back, shaking him a little. “It’s not a competition!”  Peter set his jaw and stared at his feet mulishly. “You need to go home.”

            Peter’s head flew up. “No! I can-”

            “Look, Pete, I don’t want you in the middle of this.  You don’t need any more nightmares, ok?”

            “I’m not gonna run away, Mr. Stark. If I do it once, it will be easier to do the next time.” 

            God, Tony’s heart twisted looking at the determination in Peter’s eyes, the set of his jaw, even though he was pale as a ghost and leaning against the wall for support. “Ok. Fine.” Tony sighed.  “You want to help? Web up the exits,” Tony said, gesturing towards the back ally below them. “Keep us from having any runners. And keep the cops away, we don’t want to get any of them killed.”

            “Block the exits, keep civilians away.” Peter nodded and pulled his mask over his head. “I can do that.”

            Whatever had happened here, had happened fast; less than twenty minutes had passed since JARVIS had reported that Peter was in trouble, but the gunfire was already sporadic, what sounded like carefully placed shots instead of the spray and pray that tended to happen in these types of situation.   And sure enough, when he kicked down the door to the warehouse, mostly what he found were bodies.  "What am I looking at, JARVIS?" Tony asked as he strode through the warehouse, eyes flickering over and dismissing information on his HUD as JARVIS flashed the information.  As he stepped around the corpses, he realized that there weren't any survivors; in a firefight like this, it was unusual to find not anyone who was only wounded.  

            When he knelt down to one of the bodies, he realized why - someone had made sure that there wouldn't be any survivors.  This guy, for example, had a bullet right in the middle of his forehead, while his neighbor had bled out from a cut on the neck that definitely hadn't been made by a bullet.  "From the looks of it, sir, I believe these men were dealing with at least two but no more than four assailants," JARVIS said.  "One of them apparently was unarmed."  On the HUD JARVIS highlighted a few of the bodies on the floor that had contusions and broken necks but no bullet wounds.

            "Huh.  And it looks like the other one was  _very_ armed," Tony said.  JARVIS's scan had shown at least five different bullet types, judging from the wounds in the bodies and the holes in the walls, but most of the people in here were only carrying pistols and a handful of rifles.  The other three bullet types had come from their attacker.  Even as he studied the scene, sounds of a fight came from deeper in the building.  He heard, "Just get the hell out of here, I got this," and then the sound of grunts and curses.  But by the time he found the source of the noise in the maze of offices that made up the warehouse's back half, the fight was already over.  With a grimace, he found a man, bloody and short haired, hacking at a body on the floor with a machete.  The disturbing part was that the man didn't look angry, just determined, like he was hacking through a particularly troublesome weed. 

            “Okay. Okay!” Tony shouted, trying to get the man’s attention without coming too close. “He’s dead.”

            The man stood, wiping his sleeve over his face, which only turned the blood spatter into smears. “Yeah, he is _now_.” He tossed the machete onto the ground with a clatter and when Tony didn't make any move towards him, he peeled off his black leather gloves and reached for his phone.  “Hey, Loki," he said after a moment. "I found those guys you were talking about, the Winter Soldiers.”

            “ _Loki_?” Tony repeated in disbelief, but the man wasn’t paying him any attention.  He opened his mask and said, "Winter Soldiers?" He edged closer and looked down at the body, and sure enough, though the man had facial hair now, he was recognizably one of the Soldiers from the helicarriers.

            “Yeah, they’re dead,” the man said into the phone, nudging the nearly severed head with his foot.  “Two of them.”

            Tony wanted to snatch the phone out of the man’s hands, but considering he’d just watched this guy chop a man to pieces with a goddamn _machete_ he decided to ask politely. “That’s Loki?” he said a little louder, and the man gave him a short nod. “Can I speak to him?”

“Iron Man wants to talk to you,” he said into the phone, and whatever Loki said back had him handing the phone over.

            “Hey, Loki,” Tony said cheerily.  “Who is this guy and why does he have your phone number on speed dial?”

            “His name is Frank Castle,” Loki answered, voice cautious.  "He's been...assisting me."

            Tony knew that name; Frank Castle was one of the Raft cases. He had been one of the people who had been put into the Raft the legal way rather than being kidnapped by Hydra. “I see,” Tony said slowly.  “And what’s he assisting with, exactly? Why is he here?”

            “From what I understand, he is eliminating a Hydra cell. And apparently a few Winter Soldiers as well.”

            “Right, right.” Tony took a deep breath, counted to ten and said with a slight edge in his voice, “We’re going to talk about this later.” He handed the phone back to Castle, who had ripped off a dead guy’s shirt and was using it to clean his face and the machete.  Since there was nothing really to be done here - he had bigger fish to fry than Frank Castle, at the moment - he rejoined Peter, who was in front of the building doing his level best to keep the police from cutting down the webbing that was blocking their entrance into the warehouse.

            “It’s cool, you can let them in now,” Tony said as he landed. “Lots of dead guys,” he said to the officer who had been arguing with Peter the loudest.  “Looks like this was an underground Hydra cell, so I wouldn't try too hard to figure out what happened here. Ready to go?” He asked, turning to Peter, who nodded gratefully.

            “Hey, wait! We have more questions!” The cop shouted at them as Tony hooked an arm around Peter and initialized his repulsors.

            “I'll tell my lawyers to expect your call,” Tony shouted back as he shot into the sky towards Stark Tower.  

 

            When Tony landed at the tower and climbed out of his suit, Loki was waiting for them.  He hovered, clearly anxious but trying not to look it, while Tony ignored him and herded Peter into the shower, shoving something warm and filling into his hands when he was done.  When Peter had eaten his fill and was pushing the bowl away, Tony said, “So, I think it’s time we talk.  No more dodging it, ok?” Peter looked a little queasy but he didn't run for the door, so that was a good sign.  “First of all, you need to call a therapist as soon as possible. Like tomorrow.”

            Peter nodded, staring down at his hands.  “I will, I promise. I’m sorry about tonight-”

            “It’s not about tonight, Peter,” Tony said gently.  “It’s about the nightmares, and not sleeping, and forgetting things.  It’s about avoiding people and having panic attacks.  It’s about _you,_ Mr. Parker. Do you understand?”

            “Sure, I guess so.” At the unimpressed look on Tony’s face, he hurriedly said, “I mean, yes. I will.”

            "Second, I think you need to take a step back from the superhero stuff for a second." When Peter started to protest Tony raised a hand for him to be quiet.  "You know, I didn't give you this mission, the superhero hotline thing, for _you_ to be the one to always ride to the rescue.  You know that, right?  The whole idea is that saving the world is a _team endeavor_.  You gotta know when you can't handle the call and let someone else do it." Peter made a face at that but nodded. Tony searched his eyes for a moment and was apparently satisfied by what he saw there because he didn’t press the point.  “Now. About this other thing you’ve been trying to talk about.  I know that whatever it is that you’re trying to talk about, it has something to do with romance or dating or sex, right?”

            Peter opened his mouth a couple of times then stood up suddenly. “This is too weird.”

            “No, please, c’mon kid, sit down. We can figure this out, ok?” Peter sat, rubbing his hands nervously against his pants, looking anywhere but at Tony or at Loki who was on the other side of the room pretending that he wasn't listening.  Tony took a deep breath and waded forward into the breach. “Trying to wrap your head about being – well, wanting, I guess, something different is tough when there is no one to talk to.  When I realized that guys _and_ girls do it for me, I felt like…well, I know there’s a different standards for guys than girls but I still felt like a- a…” He looked over to realize Peter was watching him with a puzzled look on his face. “You know what, never mind, this isn’t about me.  What I'm trying to say is-”

            “By the sweet mercy of the Fates,” Loki said loudly.  Listening to these two try to have a conversation was like listening to two tone deaf minstrels trying to play the same song. He crossed the room with long strides and pulled Peter to his feet, tipping his chin up so his reluctant gaze met Loki’s.  “Parker,” he said, “there is nothing wrong with you that you do not feel physical desire.  There is a reason why people would marry themselves to the gods, that they might conform with social expectations without needing to suffer the touch of another. Understand?” Peter nodded, eyes wide and a little terrified.  Loki gently pushed him back down to the couch.  Then he put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Stark, do you understand now? Peter has been trying to tell you that he desires neither men nor women nor anyone in between.”

            Tony kept staring after Loki finished talking, and Loki raised an eyebrow in silent question. “’People would marry the gods?’” He repeated. “Are you telling me you’ve been _married_ before?” Loki rolled his eyes and with a hand on top of Tony’s head, physically turned it to face Peter, where Tony saw the fear of someone who was afraid they would no longer be welcome.  He flashed back to all the times he’d stood nervous and sweaty in front of his father and tried to say the words _I like boys, too_ and felt his heart break a little.  “Pete? Is that true?”

            “Yeah,” Peter said almost inaudibly.

            “Jesus, come here,” Tony said, holding out his arms, and Peter leaned into the hug. “Look, date, don’t date, have sex with no one, have sex with everyone – wait, that came out wrong.  You know what I mean.  Either way, I’ll understand, ok? It doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with you.”

            Peter sagged against him as if his strings had been cut. “I was also kinda afraid that…maybe it was the spider? You know, that bit me? What if…”

            “As far as the spider thing goes, I think I would be more worried if you suddenly got the urge to sleep with someone who planned to kill you afterwards. So if you get an urge to make out with a supervillain…” Tony cleared his throat when he heard was he was saying and put a hand on the back of his neck self-consciously. He couldn’t see Loki but got the feeling that he was being laughed at. “Anyway, don’t do what I did…or what Steve did, but you know, Barnes isn’t really a…just, you know what, talk to someone first.  We won’t judge.  Here at the Lonely Murderous Hearts Club our motto is love at first homicide attempt,” he said, squeezing Peter’s shoulder when he made a weak attempt at a smile.  “But all joking aside, if you want to talk to someone about that kind of thing, there’s this guy we know that went through a lot of physical changes as a result of something that was injected into his body.  He might have some thoughtful insights for you. Ok?”

            Peter nodded and wiped his sleeve quickly over his eyes.  “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

            “Any time, kid. Seriously.” Tony rubbed small circles on Peter’s back until he seemed steadier.  “And if you want someone with you while you have this conversation with Aunt May, just let me know.” Peter nodded again.  “And if that Flash kid gives you any trouble, tell me.  I bet I could get Cap into his old uniform again to make a speech at your school about tolerance.”

            Peter laughed a little at that. “Yeah, ok.”

            “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll get Barnes in _his_ uniform to make a speech about tolerance.”

            “Oh my God.”

            “I know, right? You know what, we should do that anyway, just for fun.”


	10. Interlude

         Castle's steps slowed as he realized he was being followed.  Raising his hand casually as if he were just scratching his head, he glanced behind him as he crossed the street and saw a shadow separate itself from the others.  "Hey," Castle said when he recognized the man from the warehouse. "You're welcome, by the way."

         "Who the hell _are_ you?" The man said, bald head gleaming under the streetlights.  "What were you doing in that warehouse?"

         Castle shrugged.  "Well, I gotta tell you I wasn't the cavalry riding in to save your ass, that was just a fringe benefit.  I was there to clean up the Hydra cell.  What were  _you_ doing there?"

         "Man, I don't know why the hell Hydra keeps trying to roll me up." The man crossed his arms over his chest and looked over his shoulder.  "But there's a lotta people who want to know how I can do what I do, so."  He shrugged.

         "Yeah, that whole bulletproof thing is a neat trick," Castle said.  He put his hands in his jacket pocket, fingers running over the familiar shape of the Beretta there, and turned away. "Well, watch your back. Next time you might not get so lucky."

         "Yeah, right. Lucky," the man said bitterly.  "Look, my name is-"

         "Don't need it, don't want it," Castle called back over his shoulder.  "I'm not here to make friends."


	11. Looking to the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People finally talking about their feelings.

            Peter stayed until Tony was sure that he was ok, and then Loki sent him home, dropping him off in his room where he promptly fell into the bed and slept until the sound of Aunt May getting ready woke him up.  He was halfway to school before he remembered what had happened last night at Ned’s.

            Sure enough, Ned was actually waiting at the metro stop for Peter to get off the train.  Peter’s steps slowed to a halt while he tried to figure out what to say in the face of Ned’s expectant look.

            “Hey, Peter,” Ned said when Peter just stared at him, chewing his lip.

            “Hey, Ned.” Peter took a deep breath. “I, uh, I’m Spider-Man,” he said in a rush, voice low.  “That’s what I’ve been up to, why I haven’t been around much.”

            “Oh my God.  I saw you on the news last night!” He went silent for a moment, eyes far away.  For a moment Peter was afraid that he’d broken Ned’s brain, then his eyes refocused.  “You’re a superhero,” he breathed.  “You _do_ know Iron Man.  Have you met Captain America, too?”

            “Yeah.” Peter started walking towards school so they wouldn’t be late.  “But they are only like, the tip of the iceberg. I know a guy who can make himself really small, like an ant, and I met a dude who apparently punched a dragon – yeah, a _dragon_ ,” he repeated when Ned made a skeptical face, “so hard that now he’s got a magic fist or something.  I’ve seen some crazy stuff, Ned. _Crazy._ ”

            “That’s insane,” Ned whispered.  “My best friend is _Spider-Man._ ”  For the rest of the walk to school, Ned’s comments were just a variation for that, until Ned grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.  When Peter glanced at him in surprise, he saw that Ned suddenly looked sad. “This is why you disappeared over the summer, isn’t it? You didn’t run away at all.”

            “Oh.” Peter blew out a breath and adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. “No, I didn’t.  I wouldn’t do that.  I was…”

            “You were on the Raft with Captain America?”

            “Yeah.  I was, um, there in DC, too. For the, uh,” Peter mimed an explosion.

            “Holy shit, Peter. That’s _insane._ ” Ned turned and kept walking.

            “Yeah.”  It certainly seemed like it when someone said it out loud.  Peter ran a hand over the back of his neck and jogged to catch up.

            “Is this why you’ve been so weird lately?”  Ned asked quietly.

            Peter stiffened. “Weird how?”

            “Weird like forgetting assignments, blowing me off, being crabby all the time and not wanting to go out and do stuff.  Are you too busy being Spiderman?”

            “Oh. Um, no, not always, I just…”  Peter exhaled and stared at his feet. “I, um, I haven’t really been…dealing with stuff well lately. Lots of nightmares and, you know, other stuff.”

            As they went up the steps to school, Ned was thankfully quiet until they were sitting in class, when he leaned over to whisper, “Have you met Thor?”

 

            To his surprise, that evening Peter actually found himself dozing off after dinner, relaxed and full of spaghetti.  He woke up when Aunt May stood up to collect their plates and take them to the kitchen; watching her in the darkness of the apartment, lit only by the TV and the small light over the stove, he was struck by how lonely she looked.  Having lost her sister and brother in law, then her husband, he could only imagine how she’d felt when he’d gone missing last summer. “Aunt May?”

            “Yeah, Pete?”

            “I’m sorry for not being around as much lately.” At his words, Aunt May put down all of the dishes, dried her hands, and came over to sit on the edge of the couch.  With a soft sigh, she reached out to brush some of his hair out of his face.  “I’m going to do better, I promise,” he said, catching her hand and squeezing it.

            “I’m just worried about you,” she said softly.  “You seem so tired and stressed out all the time.  I think you’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

            “Yeah.” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I’m going to call those numbers Mr. Stark gave me.  On Monday, I promise.”

            “Good,” she said, her voice suddenly sounding damp. “You gotta take care of yourself, Pete.  Put your own gas mask on first, right?”

            “Right.”

***

            Once Peter was home safely, Tony took a shower, taking his time while he gathered his thoughts, half expecting Loki to follow him into the shower and demand the talk he’d clearly been waiting for.  Instead, Tony found him on the roof, reclining in one of the chairs there and staring thoughtfully into the fire.  Tony scratched his jaw for a moment, watching him, then grabbed a blanket and dragged a chair closer to join him.

            “Whatcha thinking about?” he asked, throwing the blanket over his shoulders against the chill night air.

            His words seemed to break Loki from his reverie. “I’m going to have to go rescue Thor,” he said with a sigh, handing over his phone. 

            “What?” Tony looked down at the phone, seeing a text message from Thor that said _LOKI!! THEY CUT MY HAIR!!!_   “I don’t get it,” he said as he handed the phone back.

            Loki raised his eyebrow.  “Thor wouldn’t be this upset if he’d _agreed_ to have his hair cut.”

            Tony thought about that for a second before understanding dawned. “Oh.  Oh, shit.”

            “Indeed.”

            “When are you going to go?”

            Loki shrugged. “So far they’ve only cut his hair. I’m sure they’ll need more time before they work up to more sinister designs against his person.” Loki took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to fidget with his phone as Stark fell silent.  He watched him out of the corner of his eye, shoulders tight with tension, as Stark ran a hand over his face, clearly trying to decide something.  After a few minutes, Stark took a deep breath and stood, coming over to straddle Loki’s lap.  His breath caught and his heart leapt as Stark cradled Loki’s face in his hands. “I’m ready for whatever spell you have planned,” he said, voice serious. “I'm all in, I promise.  But first, you gotta tell me what you are plotting.”

            “Ah.” Loki’s eyes dropped from Stark’s suddenly sharp gaze and he covered one of Stark’s hands with his own, leaning into the touch. “To what, specifically, are you referring?” He temporized, wondering how much Stark knew or had guessed.

            “This whole project of Peter’s? Don’t think I didn’t notice that you were the one who gave me the idea. Then you set your attack dog, Castle, on Hydra.  Together, that says that you are assembling a small army – well,” he amended, “at this point, it’s more like a super-powered football team, but anyway – and that you are eliminating threats.  But you seem to want _Peter_ to be the face of whatever team you are trying to pull together, so I had to wonder.  What’s your end game here?”

            Loki was silent for a while, trying to find the words for his fears. “Thanos is coming,” Loki said finally.  “There is evidence that he is marshaling his resources and building a new army to acquire the Infinity Stones.”

            Stark tilted his head slightly and studied Loki. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? It’s not as if we haven’t faced off against Thanos’s forces before.”

            “Because I know you’d throw yourself at the problem, heedless of the consequences for your personal safety.  When we first met, that was an asset.  Now, for reasons that I hope don’t need explanation, I consider it more of a disability.”

            “So you were trying to protect me?” Tony said incredulously; Loki was relieved to find that Stark sounded amused rather than offended.  “Like a princess in a tower?”

            “Hardly that,” Loki protested.  “But Earth needs defenders, as many as it can marshal.  You have a penchant for trying to solve problems all by yourself.”

            “So you were trying to protect me from myself,” Stark concluded, and Loki had no words to argue with that, so he shrugged.  Stark exhaled long and low, giving Loki a narrow eyed look, but didn’t pursue the point. “But it feels like you sort of side-stepped my question, so I’ll ask it more plainly: are you trying to take over the world again?”

            “No.  I’m trying to help _you_ take over the world.”

            Stark blinked at him for a long time, stunned, before he finally said, _“What?_ ”

            Loki shrugged again. “I could list all of the ways in which you are the best candidate to lead Earth against the forces of Thanos, but that hardly feels like the point of this conversation.”

            More blinking as Stark processed that.  “But I don’t want to be the ruler of Earth.”

            Loki cupped the back of Stark’s neck, stroking his jaw with his thumb.  “I know you don’t. But when the time comes, a leader must rise, and it should be you.”

            “Is that what all of this has been about? The whole immortality thing? For me to live long enough for your plotting to pay off?”

             “Of course not,” Loki said with a frown.  “Don’t be absurd. You must know that I made that offer with selfish intent.”

            “Because…” Stark said expectantly.

            “Because?”

            “Because you lo…Come on, you can say it,” Stark wheedled. “Because you lo…”

            Loki rolled his eyes and relented. “Because I love you.”

            Stark's blinding smile at that was reward enough for being forced into mawkish sentimentality. “Ok.  Good.  That wasn’t so hard, right? I love you too. Let’s do this.” Stark dug under the blankets into a pocket and pulled out a ring, the dark metal band reflecting the slim light of the moon.  “We’re going to put a pin in the “ruling Earth” thing, but for now, this is for you.”  When Loki just stared at it, stunned, Stark said, “It’s an Earth thing.  When two people really love each other-”

            “I know what it is, Stark,” Loki said slowly as he took the ring from Stark’s hand. “Why?”

            “Oh, so you offering me immortality wasn’t a marriage proposal?” Stark raised an eyebrow.  “Sure.”

            Mortifyingly, Loki felt his face get warm. Stark must have seen it but made no comment, he just kept watching Loki with an almost intolerable level of warmth and affection in his eyes.  Loki would never understand how this man above all others could see him so well.  He slid the ring down his finger, flexing his hand at the sensation of the cool metal resting against his skin.  Running his thumb over it, he felt something slide into place, a restlessness ease; he pulled Stark in close and buried his face in his hair, closed his eyes and breathed in deep.  Then with the snapping of the fire, the smell of smoke and grease and Stark's cologne, Loki slid his fingers under Stark's shirt to trace the sigils on his skin as he murmured the liquid syllables of the spell. 


End file.
